Og
by Baha
Summary: Sequel to Abú a story following the decline of Pacey's relationship with Dawson and Joey after an accident leaves him wheelchair bound. This pretty much just continues on... r&r please!
1. Prologue

Jen chewed down on her bottom lip as she concentrated on Pacey, her hands joined together in a prayer-like fashion. With or without Dawson and Joey, the boy's life was decidedly harsh. Several cold weeks stretched out after the Leery's begged for an olive branch, but now, finally, no bad blood lay between them all.

People were learning to accept that the troika had long since fizzled out; Dawson avoided Pacey in the halls, sometimes offering a gentleman's nod, and Joey saved breath on nervous hello's that would only be lost on him anyway. Mitch and Gale would make the effort, they would still drop by Doug's, they still cared. Everyone still cared, but everyone accepted.

"Two, three... four," Jen counted, pinning Pacey with a encouraging glare as he balanced himself between the hand rails of their school nurse's wing.

She, herself, had given up on her friendship with Dawson and Joey. She remembered being furious with them because they had mentally paired her up with Pacey to make themselves feel justified in harbouring certain feelings, and to feel clever and in power.

However, she had managed to swallow her pride because in the great scheme of things, at the time, she was still adamant that Pacey getting his friendships back on track was the most important thing to be involving herself with. But the "friends" she still had a romanticised view of had put pay to that notion. So much so that it was only the McPhee siblings that bothered with either of them; and Dawson and Joey were only themselves rebuilding things, taking tentative steps towards redefining their own relationship, albeit a dangerous one.

"Five, Pacey, come on!" Jen squealed, beating her hands together with a surging excitement tickling through her.

Kate held onto Pacey from behind, feeling his whole body rock with giant expels of air as tiredness pulled at his leg, arm and back muscles. He dropped his head gracefully onto his chest and passed down onto his knees; a satisfied smile lighting his features that, for him, totally outweighed his exhaustion.

"Don't want to over-do things now do I, Kate?" Pacey cheered as she tossed a towel over his head playfully and positioned his wheelchair behind him. Jen skipped the short distance, assisted Kate in helping him back into the wheelchair and removed the towel to pat at his damp face. "I mean, after last night... there's nothing wrong with under-doing things, but God knows I just don't have the energy to over-do it these days."

"I don't want to know," Kate scorned with a disguised smirk. She touched Jen's arm and offered a supportive squeeze before moving off towards the door. "See you later, Pacey and thanks for coming down today, Jen, you really... motivate him," she accused teasingly.

Pacey waved her off with a content sigh, "I thought she'd never leave."

Jen traced the edges of the towel between her fingers before wrapping it up and looping it around his neck. She clung its either end and pulled him towards her, breaking the unwelcome distance between them. "Y'know Pace, one good thing came out of all of this."

"Mmmm, what's that now?" Pacey murmured, licking his lips as he anticipated dancing with hers.

"If it weren't for the star-crossed soulmates I never would have considered you."

"Never?" Pacey pushed out his bottom lip in a childish pout. "Aw, never say never."

Jen chuckled and dragged her fingers through her hair before forcing herself up against him with a vicious, sudden longing. They grappled at each other, needing to feel the other, to _taste_ the other as necessary as breathing is to living. "Pacey," Jen wheezed, finally tearing herself backwards.

"What?" He asked desperately, dragging a sleeve across his mouth.

"I love - us."

Pacey giggled and rolled his eyes to the ceiling, "Is that all? We stopped kissing for that?" Jen whacked him upside the head playfully. His hands shot into the air in surrender before finding themselves laced around her neck, "I love us too."


	2. Contending issues

Paying Jen little heed, Pacey agonised over his playstation controller, viciously ramming his interactive car into that of his opponent, a gleaming smile breaking over his features as the car subsequently turned in motion off the road. His shadow and nephew slammed his own controller down in kind and lifted heavy lids to him, his mood deteriorating further as Pacey ran a hand over the child's dark curls.

"You cheated! You totally cheated!" he whined, ducking his head from his uncle's reach and flattening his hair down with a vain emergence.

"I'm sorry Charlie," Pacey sighed, trying to apologise with an air of seriousness. "Hey, hey, we can have a rematch. I'll even let you win this time, how's that sound? Huh kid?"

"No, I can win on my own; when I'm not playing with a cheater," the six year old continued to sulk, crossing his arms and setting his jaw. Jen, currently sprawled upon the bed casually, set aside her magazine, smiling at the scene. Herself and Pacey - more of a trial run for Pacey if anything - were set in charge of babysitting his second oldest sister's son; and unlike with Carrie's three, Charlie actually preferred _Uncle Pacey_, adored him even; and even though the bickering was endless, Jen observed as Pacey tried to pacify the child with another game that Pacey too doted on the boy more so than any of his other nieces and nephews. Charlie, to Pacey at least, was the kind of kid that brought a slow, genuine smile to his face. "Ha! See! I told you I could beat you - look, Jen your boyfriend sucks!"

"That's only because I'm letting you win," Pacey dismissed, smiling over his shoulder at Jen quickly before absorbing himself in the game again, his tongue planting itself between his teeth with quiet determination. "Aw, man. Hey, what happened to not running people off the trek?"

"I'm sorry," Charlie relented, "I'll go easy next time. I'll let you win." Pacey chuckled and paused their game, willing the boy to turn to him. Cocking his head, Pacey beckoned him up from were he sat cross-legged on the floor, and once Charlie stood just before his uncle's wheelchair, curiosity now biting at him, Pacey then allowed both hands to rest heavily upon the child's small shoulders. "What?"

"Well, I was just thinking, you know... we could play the playstation any old time, and it isn't every day I get to baby - um, hang out with you," Pacey reminded, pretending to work out a still-forming thought in his head. Charlie nodded, allowing a chubby hand to reach out to the cool metal of the chair, "and I'm starting to think Jen's a bit bored too so how about the three of us do something different for a change? Something you hardly ever get to do when you come into the Cape?"

"Like what?" Charlie asked dubiously, throwing a glance beyond Pacey's shoulder at Jen. "We aren't playing hide and seek again because last time you only pretended to count and I hid for ages and ages and then you were all kissy-kissy when I came got you."

"No..." Pacey agreed, allowing the word to hang in the air, pausing to lick his lips before looking Charlie dead in the eye, the child now shifting his weight with an increasing sense of anticipation. "When I fixed you that ham sub earlier on, do you know what Jen was doing?"

"Sure, looking through your CD collection," he touted instantly.

"Yeah? No, well, when you were eating your lunch we set a treasure hunt game up out the back yard," Pacey raised his eyebrows, catching onto Charlie's wrist before he bounded away with a newfound hyper energy, "Ah, ah, ah. You need clues to find all the treasure. You're looking for chocolate bars, and you know what?" he whispered conspiratorially, leaning forward. "There's an extra big special surprise at the end."

"What is it?"

"That would be telling."

"Oh, please Uncle Pacey! So I'll know to look for it. Is it a plane kit that I get to make myself?"

"Does that sound like a good surprise and something within Uncle Pacey's price range?" Pacey considered with a careless shrug. Charlie nodded vigorously. "Then yeah sure, why not? Right, ah, ah hold on kid," he snapped onto Charlie's hand again as he tried to pull away, his eyes round and dancing. "Your first clue is..."

"Cue inappropriate innuendo," Jen teased. Pacey tilted his head round to her and tossed her a sarcastic smile. She held her breath, allowing him to focus back on Charlie and pass an undecipherable message his way before the boy kissed his cheek and ran to her, leaning up on his tiptoes. Jen raised him onto the bed with much effort and he kissed her goodbye too before scrambling off, his prize in mind. "You're going to hell you... mean, mean ass of an uncle!" She threw down her magazine and pulled herself into a sitting position. Pacey laughed softly and spun his wheelchair round to her before travelling the short metre.

"A, you don't believe in hell, and, B, he'll figure it out. When he's our age he'll get it."

"And what about today when he goes home with no chocolate or toy plane thing or whatever it was you promised him?"

"Don't you think I haven't thought that far ahead?" Pacey smirked, leaning towards her. She turned from him teasingly, disallowing a kiss. With a prolonged sigh he straightened himself in his chair, "See when he goes home without whatever it is he thinks I have in store for him, well, it's not me that has to deal with the impending tantrum, now is it?"

"Now that _was_ awfully clever of you Pace," Jen agreed, allowing one hand to press itself against his chest, feeling for a heartbeat, "But he's not going home for another, oh, two, three hours? Nice one. We get to handle the tantrum." She patted him before pulling away altogether and dragging a hand over the top of her head.

"Woah, wait, where are you going?" he demanded, suddenly anxious, twisting his chair in a full circle to follow her heading for the exit.

"I have better things to do with my time than watch you try to tend to a screaming six year old, believe it or not. I mean, as fun an image as that sounds, you struggling to rein control over a small child seeing as the only reason he gets along with you is because he likens himself to you with this whole authority-issues thing you got going, _but _there's a documentary on E! tonight about washed-up child TV stars watching paint dry and I just wouldn't want to miss it."

"Jen," he caught her eye, and brought his hands to a prayer-like fashion. "Please."

"Pace, remember that one thing I asked you the other week and you refused point blank?"

"That's different, this is babysitting!"

"This is watching you calm Grumpy the seventh dwarf and play video-games all afternoon whilst I try and stay awake; and it's not really for me. It's for Andie. You can understand that surely, can't you?"

"Fair enough it's her birthday, but Dawson's going to be there and... and Joey's going to be there."

"Yeah, and you know why?" she asked with a saccharine drawl as if addressing Charlie himself, "Because Joey was the one that proposed she hold a party in the first place and Dawson just happens to be son of the happily married couple that own the restaurant stroke aforementioned party venue. If I stick it out with you and Baby Witter will you please, please, please get over yourself long enough to shove whatever issues you have aside for one evening and wish Andie, one of your nearest and dearest friends, a happy birthday?"

"Fine," he answered bluntly. "But tell me, what ever happened to the efficiency of an e-mail going a long way?" Jen slapped his arm in gentle reprimand. "So is it an informal do or will I have to have my suit pressed and ready?"

"Says the guy who can't even fix his own tie!"

"Hey, I can to - shut up, Lindley."

She bit her bottom lip to suppress a knowing giggle and, dropping to bend at the knees, leant down for a quick, affectionate kiss on his cheek. "But I really do have to go. Nature calls."

"Oh, no, hang on a minute," Pacey disputed above a whisper, taking her by the hand and drawing her downwards again. Finding her lips this time, he held the kiss, forcing his tongue out, demanding access. With a paradoxical delicate haste, he deepened the kiss, allowing his tongue to roam over hers, in a nurturing and altogether greedy -

"I just_ knew_ you would be kissy-kissy as soon as I left! You lied again, didn't you Uncle Pacey? And I couldn't even find anything..."

Jen patted Pacey's knee with a weak smile having broken from him upon their interuption. She side-stepped a temperamental Charlie, ruffling a hand over his thick locks before continuing on her journey for the bathroom. Pacey sighed, swiping a hand over his face before picking up a controller to smoothe over, and hopefully cut premature, the small boy's ensuing tirade.


	3. The Fish Bistro

_Hey PaceyW'sgirl! You've pretty much summed up my intentions here dude. I'm not in a wheelchair myself, but I've had the pleasure to be able to work with a group of young people my age dealing with their disability by becoming heavily involved in human rights; and, not that Pacey will become some sort of activist per se, I did see him learning to become more comfortable in the chair. _

_I don't know if you remember the previous fic Abú meaning 'forever' in Irish, but Og means 'young' and I thought, yes with the introduction of crutches, Pacey would be learning and progressing as it were, but just as he manages crutches I thought the idea of learning would better be placed on the emphasis of others. I, myself, when meeting the young wheelchair users for the first time was nervous, trying to treat them delicately, holding doors and whatnot and I think it's important to remember that they are young people, they are the same as me and just as I stopped to enjoy their company without a polite reservation I could look beyond their wheelchair. _

* * *

Upon entering the newly decorated fish bistro with its banners and streamers and balloons, the homely effort proving to have something uniquely Dawson about it, both Jen and Pacey, before eyeing up Jack, felt suddenly at a loss. Just before the bar was a proud buffet and the faces, especially for Pacey, were mere ghosts of the all-too brief and raw past. Bowing his head to the intimate crowd and with his hands finding the sides of his wheelchair, Pacey readied himself for his start towards Jack in one corner. Jen, clutching at their present, willed Grams' arrival, but as Gale approached them with an honest smile she felt almost reassured that there would be no repeats of punch-ups at lunch, no cold words, no unnecessary tension; Pacey on the other hand failed to recognise Gale as a good omen. 

"Oh, honey look at you," she gushed instantly, running a hand down his arm and catching his wrist before adding sincerely, "I'm so glad you decided to come Pacey. I know Andie would be pleased to have everyone she loves in the one room this evening."

"Well, you know me. I aim to please," he laughed off before coughing to clear his throat. Gale nodded and smiled sadly at him, a glazed, almost wistful look coming to her eye, but managing, then, to compose herself she turned to Jen. "Well, um... if you ladies don't mind..."

"Pacey," Jen became distracted with him before having the opportunity to exchange the obligatory pleasantries with Dawson's mother. He flashed her a tight smile before abandoning her in search of Jack again. "I'm terribly sorry about him," she started to ramble, "we just-"

"You of all people don't need to apologise, sweetie," Gale was quick to assure, tilting her head to her. "Especially concerning Pacey. He's done nothing wrong here. And besides, you're all a year older now, right? Coming here was a big step I'm sure, maybe things are on the up."

"Yeah, maybe," Jen said with a shadow of a smile accompanying the sarcastic lilt to her voice, "But tell me, does 'dragged kicking and screaming' qualify as a 'big step' these days?" Gale chuckled and patted her hand. "So are the guys here? Is Andie here?" she reiterated carefully.

"Yeah, she's..." Gale pivoted and pointed out blindly. Jen's gaze became lost amongst the crowd again before she successfully settled upon the birthday girl in question chatting animatedly with what Jen could only assume were several family members of the extended McPhee clan, and Joey and Bessie. "Well, I'll let you get reacquainted. I'm going to try and find whoever has Lily. I tell you, when it comes to newborns at parties it's like pass-the-parcel."

* * *

Joey smiled up at Mitch as he passed her with a tray of small delicacies. She shook her head and he instantly moved off, answering to the pulls and throes of the McPhee throng. Jen suddenly fell down beside her, moaning loudly as tiredness somehow emphasized neck and back pain. Pulling one leg up onto the other so that her ankle now rested atop her knee, she began massaging at her foot, turning to Joey to smile apologetically. 

"You try pushing a six foot two comedic smartass all the way here because apparently his hands are too sore managing that wheelchair all by himself day in, day out. It doesn't seem to bother him in the slightest when he's showing off in front of Jack with his... wheelies and..."

"Yeah," Joey laughed, nodding to herself, "I seen him tilting backwards until his hands touched the ground and he propped himself up that way. Probably his version of breakdancing, I'd love to have seen the attempts made at that before he perfected such a party trick."

"Hit his head on his book shelf. It was very funny," Jen supplied with a fond smile.

"Yeah, sounds about right..." Joey watched her carefully, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear. "He was playing with Alexander at the time. I think it annoys him when he realised just how much he's missed out what with the way things have been between us all. First Alex and now little Lily."

"You know Pace, things happen for a reason with him," Jen said with an effort to sound flippant, "No regrets."

"Right," Joey averted her gaze. "And how about you Jen? You and Pacey seem... you seem really happy together. You're good together."

Jen's foot dropped solidly on the ground and she expelled a short breath she wasn't aware she had been holding, "In lieu of anything of real importance to say here Joey I guess a 'thanks' is probably in order, and yes we are happy."

"I know."

"But that's just the thing, you don't know. You get all sentimental and feel for Pacey about how much he's lost out on when it comes to the Leerys and the Potters and people he's practically grown up alongside, probably even closer to than with his own family at one point or another along the way, but you _don't _know. You don't know what it's like. I'm sure you and Dawson get the play-by-play from Jack and Andie, but you couldn't guess the half of it."

"So tell me," Joey declared, willing her emotions not to get the better of her or the situation. "Come on Jen, you're obviously angry with me here. So tell me."

"I'm not... angry with you," Jen relented. "I'm sorry, I'm just - no, I'm not angry with you and believe it or not Pacey isn't either. I don't think so anyway. Neither you nor Dawson really come up in conversation," she admitted just above a whisper before rubbing her brow with one palm and mustering enough energy to invigorate their conversation as she began an almost automatic matter-of-fact response, "as you well know when Pacey first had the accident he was referred to that... physical disability service, something the hospital itself helped set up for him."

"Yeah, I remember."

"You know, you had to be over two years of age and despite his mental age he just about made the cut there," she paused, any traces of her teasing smile subsiding as she struggled to rhyme off the professional body, "he was promised his own health professional, with regular visits to his GP of course, a consultant, a physiotherapist that actually came out to his house besides his school nurse... occupational therapists, therapy assistants, and a social worker and care manager - although I don't exactly know the difference there."

Joey's smile failed to reach her eyes.

"But obviously the service couldn't support everyone," Jen sighed again, pulling her foot up as if prepared for another massage but she failed to comply with herself. "The Witters were thinking of moving out to Boston or further out to New York. I mean, one of the snags, something you would think you wouldn't want to wish for, was that Pacey had to have a long-term mobility problem."

"But he... does."

"Yeah, but apparently it looks better on paper," Jen reaffirmed distastefully, "The Witters were all for moving away until he was finally accepted after the six-month milestone; and I mean look at him now. He's doing better, isn't he?" Joey followed Jen's tired stare and found the aforementioned boyfriend laughing hysterically with Jack over a pitcher of lemonade at a neighbouring table, realising for the first time that although Pacey was getting all the help he needed, perhaps it was Jen who was lacking that professional shoulder to help her work through her anxieties and train her how to cope.

"You're really good for each other Jen," Joey offered again, "And I have to commend you for it, I mean when me and Pacey ended things I guess I was let off the hook. You... well, I couldn't have done what you're doing. I'm glad he has someone like you; and you're right about things happening for a reason... when it comes to Pacey anyway. I mean, if we had stuck it out for the sake of saving a dying relationship, I couldn't have seen him where he is today."

"Yeah?" Jen grinned, bumping her shoulder against Joey, realising for the first time in over a year that perhaps all bridges weren't beyond salvation. "Thanks." Joey chuckled sadly and allowed her gaze to inevitably fall upon Pacey and Jack again.

* * *

"Dawson! How's it hanging man?" Jack forced an exaggerated smile and hooked an arm around Pacey's neck, effectively strangling him. Pacey struggled against him, patting Jack's chest to ease up. "Me and Pace here were just talking about you. Well, not about you... no, yeah we were. We were talking about you. Pacey was just saying how much he missed that good angel conscience thing, he has this theory you see that you used to be that thing for him... you know... you know... nagging a person to act morally." 

"Did he now?" Dawson observed, narrowing his eyes before sinking to a chair opposite them. Jack finally released his death grip and Pacey leant forward, resting his elbows on top of the table so as to stare into the contents of his glass. "And tell me Jack, what would be immoral about having a couple soft drinks at your sister's birthday party?"

"We've established a system," Pacey interrupted, finally raising his glass to his mouth. "Two parts lemonade, one part swiped vodka from Joseph McPhee's own personal collection." He paused without taking a drink, as if questioning his own moral fibres. "Or, no wait... one part lemonade... do you want some D?" Dawson turned away from the glass suddenly and amorously being thrust in his direction and he declined with a short but definitive shake of the head. "Suit yourself," Pacey shrugged, throwing his head back to allow the remainder of such a concoction pass down his throat. "Oh, this is the round when we ran out of lemonade," he concluded with a shudder, "Vodka?"

"Really, Pace, I'm all set," Dawson declined politely again, this time a smirk finding itself tugging at one corner of his lips. "How many _lemonades_ have you both had anyway?"

"Well, let me see... there's one and then two," Jack started on a high pitch, "Okay, imagine this," he cleared his throat, "You're dancing in front of me; and not only has Pacey demonstrated that he's having difficulty counting out ratios, but he's also willingly engaging in a conversation with yourself."

"That's right!" Pacey dropped his glass down with a distinct bang, laughing, "We're not supposed to like each other."

"No?" Dawson sighed, mentally preparing himself for whatever slurred insults happened to trip from their drunken peer. Pacey shook his head and brought a fist to his mouth to excuse a hiccup. "Well, I'll tell you what, how about I cut you a deal?"

"Like a two for one sort of thing?"

"What? No, shut up," Dawson dismissed him with a disapproving scowl, "I won't tell Jen that you and Jack - actually, better still, I won't tell your badge brother that you and Jack have been drinking excessively tonight, not in a family restaurant with kids about because I can't see her being too pleased about that, nor would Deputy Doug have any reservations about running to your father as well you know."

"Deal," Pacey answered eagerly, stretching a hand across the table.

"We aren't finished," Dawson chuckled softly, glancing at Jack before remembering that Jack too was wholly intoxicated. "_I'll_ keep my mouth shut," he emphasized particularly slowly, "if you do likewise. No scenes tonight, no nothing. Tonight, Pacey, we _are_ supposed to like each other. Okay?"

"Just for this one night? Because I gotta tell you D, even when we were buddies you're a lot to take in one night. I mean, my God, you used to go on and on and on about Joey Potter and the whole soulmates schtick - and - and movies! We couldn't even watch a movie in peace without you going off on some over-analytical spiel during the middle of it, as if you're owed some right to give a running commentary on it just because it's your life's passion. Not that I have a life's passion so I wouldn't know but... well, say I was a plumber or a chef I bet you wouldn't hear me tell you how to... plumb or... or eat a hotdog."

Jack sniggered and rested a hand onto Pacey's shoulder to haul himself upwards, "I'm going to get me a hotdog."

"I'll go," Pacey argued, pulling Jack into his chair again. "Dawson's right, Jen would just kill us. Besides I wouldn't be stumbling around drunk, now would I?" Jack settled down and wasn't given ample time to even contemplate another conversation with Dawson before they were ripped from any train of thought come Mitch's scolding of Pacey who unceremoniously caught his foot with one tyre as he made way for the buffet.


	4. Strangers in the Night

"Hey."

Pacey glanced over his shoulder to the nervous lament and offered a polite half-smile, before clearing his throat and straightening round again in his chair, forcing his chin upon his chest. A sigh passed his lips before he knew to suppress it as the sound of shuffling of lead feet penetrated the quiet of the night that had previously enveloped him. He opened his eyes to the lone figure now standing before him, her own eyes wide with expectation as if it were him that had invaded her space first.

"Hey Jo," he answered after a while. He watched her carefully as she pushed her chin out as if gaining such a brief response from him was a new triumph in their relationship, and a hard-hitting truth was that she was probably right, because strangers would be treated with more enthusiasm in a single 'thank you' or 'sorry, excuse me' than in an entire conversation between the pair in the tumultous year that had now passed with Andie's landmark seventeeth birthday.

"You wanted fresh air too I take it? I mean, I'm exhausted but the party's really only getting started, now that the kids are all away home," she forced a short laugh, with her tongue finding itself between her teeth. "Andie seems to be having a good time."

"Yeah," Pacey grunted, rubbing at his eyes, "Can't say I've noticed to be honest with you. You know these sorts of things, you rarely get a chance to talk to the birthday girl herself. I've been with Jack most of the time."

"So I believe," she agreed with a hint of teasing, before titling her head off to the side, "I was talking to Dawson."

"I'm sober now," Pacey replied immediately, making eye contact and nodding to himself. She nodded in kind, turning her head from him to take in the periphery of the streets, the short nights still left dark in the wake of winter. Pacey shivered and bowed his head to her again, and with the sleeves of the shirt his girlfriend forced him to wear that evening pulled over his fists, he began rubbing at his thighs to recreate what it was to feel warmth. "I was just saying. This is a proper conversation now."

"You know," Joey started on a different note, fully aware that this was the closest thing to a conversation and beyond anything she could have hoped for, "just looking about here and now, these streets, this town, I spent so much time and energy fighting through school and stuff to try and pave a way for myself so that I could exist somewhere else because in a small town opportunities, as well you know, as well we all know, opportunities aren't all that plentiful."

"Even in a big town opportunities aren't all that plentiful," Pacey refuted, tilting himself back in his wheelchair. "As well you know."

"No matter where I go, I'll always have Capeside and no matter who I drift away from, whatever friendships I lose along the way I'll always have these streets. Do you remember right outside that café... we were maybe eight, it was summer and we were on our bikes? Gale was with us and I crashed into you and you went flying off towards the café door in a heap."

"Yeah, I remember," he ran a hand over his mouth and chin before bringing two fingers to a distinct scar on one cheek. "And we were nine." Joey turned from the café and scowled in thought as she considered this. "And you never said sorry, you know."

"I did!"

"No, you didn't. You said it was my fault for trying to run you off the road."

"Well, I'm sorry Pace," she offered gently, her eyes falling immediately to the wheelchair in which she had been trying desperately to block out. "But even when I hated you I liked you... deep down."

"Oh, yeah," he agreed, feigning seriousness. "Deep, deep down; and same for me, I mean even when I was pulling your hair I still thought you were one hell of a boy for a girl."

"Shut up," she chuckled, shaking her head. "You really haven't changed, have you?"

"I don't go pushing girls down anymore thank you very much. Jen would totally kick my ass."

"No, I meant-" she stopped herself and brought her eyes to a slow close. "Nevermind. I don't know what I meant... how come we can't change? I mean, I look back with a quiet regret having spent half my life running or doing everything in my power not to have to grow up and with time spent with Dawson - in that room, same script, same arguments - it was easier to bury my head in the sand in that regard. When you... when you had your accident, you didn't go back, you didn't ignore it."

"Yeah, it's kind of hard to ignore the inability to walk some days," he joked lightly. "I mean, the odd day I'll feel like going for a jog or-"

"That's not funny, Pacey."

"Hey, if you don't laugh you cry," he shrugged a shoulder.

"I also had a chance to talk to Jen tonight. We had a really good talk, well... as much as could be expected I suppose," she informed, her eyes trained on him to try and decipher a reaction. Pacey's head shot up in an instance, and whether she had known him these years or five minutes, his curiousity and disbelief was evident. "She was saying really nice things about you, Pace."

"Well," he licked his lips, "I don't know how it tends to go for you, but it's sort of in her job description to do so. She gets good money saying those nice things. Pacey Witter ain't cheap... neither's Jen for that matter," he rolled his eyes to the starry night above them.

"I know we can't go back."

"You've finally matured, that's nice to know," Pacey smiled falsely, his hands falling to the sides of his wheelchair as he preapred to back away towards the party again. She reached out, grabbing at his arm before retracting her hand as if ashamed of the assumed intimacy even within their close proximity. "What do you want Joey?"

"I... I want you," she struggled, quickly shaking her head at this as if only hearing it back to herself and refuting the idea in its instant. "I mean, I didn't mean... I_ know_ we aren't good together for obvious reasons and reasons even still incomprehensible to the both of us, but... don't you miss anything? I mean, me, you and Dawson across that street riding our bikes."

"Even then it was me that got hurt out of the three of us," he smirked wryly. She managed to hold his gaze for a few beats, forcing him to maintain a level of sincerity for a moment and on a short inhalation of breath he continued more seriously, "Of course I miss your friendship. If that's what you're asking. But at the same time, it's like... when I think of you and Dawson - it's like - I don't need to say 'like' because it is, you are, you _are_ my childhood friend or foe or whatever terminology seems most fitting, and just as I miss your friendship because nostalgia's a tricky thing, it makes us remember with fondness, but there's also a distance when it comes to friends you used to chase around a back yard with, climb trees with... run them off their bikes..." he laughed, gesturing a hand out towards the street behind Joey. "Because we aren't nine anymore, Jo. Sure you remember the closeness back then, fair enough we were never particularly amorous towards each other but still, we're even different now... you think I haven't changed?"

"I don't know. In case it escaped your memory, this is the first time in long over a year we've actually set aside a few minutes to speak to each other, and even then that was half a year after the actual accident itself," she dropped the accusation, noticing his hands moving for the wheels either side of his chair again. "Do you think you've changed?"

"Aw, I don't know," he shrugged, feeling a heat rising to his cheeks at being suddenly placed on the spot. "I've always laughed to keep from crying, I guess."

"Pacey?"

Joey sighed as a genuine, lasting smile lit his features and he turned instantly on the spot upon hearing Jen's voice.

"There you are! It's freezing out here, what - oh, hi Joey."

"Hey, Jen," Joey smiled awkwardly. "I'm sorry for keeping him... we were just..."

"Let me just say g'night to Andie and then are you ready to go?" Pacey declared with forced enthusiam. Jen nodded distantly, brushing a hand over his shoulder as he passed her.

"We were just talking," Joey apologised again. Jen watched her for a moment before wrapping her arms around herself and nodding quietly.

"Well, I can't deny you that," she said at last. "Too many years have passed between you for me to get obsessive now, right? I'm not some jealous girlfriend here, Jo. I don't mind that you talk to Pacey. It can only be a good thing, I suppose."

"You just suppose?"

"The anger's subsiding but the fact still remains the same," Jen informed with a certain snappy hostility. Her shoulders dropped upon Joey's shrunken form and her features softened with a luxuriously long sigh, "You and Dawson didn't want to know. As soon as he pushed out against everyone, you and Dawson just collapsed away into each other. Believe it or not even Jack and I got the brunt of his moods. You can't just... you can't want forgiveness if you don't know how you hurt him. You chose Dawson even before the accident. It's what you do, it's something you've always done."

Joey turned her back on her, scanning an eye around the length of the street and its strip of family-owned shops. She choked back desperate tears as the view of the café became obscured, and she was briefly aware of Jen clearing her throat behind her - never sure how long she was required to wait with her in silence in such a situation - but it wouldn't have mattered because Joey was now living in a different time and watching how an affable mother held her arms out to a son that wasn't hers, allowing him to fall into her wailing. She became lost in a vision clouded with dark red, just about managing to break breath to offer up a simple strangers' 'goodbye' without looking back as she sensed Pacey's return.

"Bye, Jo," came a simultaneous answer before they moved off together, slipping into an easy dialogue as if deciding that she couldn't hear them anymore, and if she could, then tough. Their laughter filled the air around them, suffocating and deafening, and then a few others exited the restaurant too, forcing Joey to then wonder what time it actually was. Just as Jen's presence and then Pacey's was obvious without actually throwing a glance their way, Joey closed her eyes as Dawson suddenly materialised beside her, throwing a tentative arm around her shoulders and offering a lift home. Her own voice sounded distant to her as she declined politely, opting to walk home, and that if he didn't mind, she preferred to be alone.


	5. 21st Century Boy and Girl

Despite the quiet of her expansive front garden save a few high-flying birds and rustling reeds, Jen, residing on her Grams' bench swing with a book in lap, brought a hand to her mouth to excuse a particularly loud yawn. Flicking a page then, she sighed over its words and looked up briefly. Her eye caught a figure looking about himself on the Leery's porch step and before she could compromise a reaction Dawson was now jogging towards her and hitching a back-pack further up his shoulder. She sighed again, marked her page and set aside her book, smiling with an increasing unease.

"Just wanted to say hi really," Dawson decided, "Um, I was actually on my way out." He pointed behind himself with a thumb and shrugged a shoulder to needlessly draw attention to his bag. "Returning videos. Surprise, surprise. You want to come with?"

"If it's all the same, I'm kind of enjoying this book," she excused politely. "You're not in any rush though, right? Sit down." She didn't know why she half-expected him to decline politely, gesture towards his bag and insist he really be getting on his way and that perhaps they could catch up another time and that they _should_ try to catch up another time because it's been so long, because she - as well as everyone else - knew that Dawson was never particularly strong in sensing hints; and so he sat down.

"I didn't really get to talk to you at Andie's party the other week."

"Yeah... look, Dawson-"

"No, I mean, don't get me wrong Jen, I'm not pulling you on it or anything. I know how things are. I just... well, I was talking to Joey. She said she managed to get a half-way decent conversation out of the both of you."

"The both of us? Oh, right, yeah, 'course. Pace mentioned something about that. Mind you," she paused to force the swing into fluid motion, "he and Jack were busy leading each other astray about two, three hours before that so..." she allowed her sentence to trail off, in hope of Dawson abandoning all things Pacey.

"So," Dawson tried with enthusiasm after a minute's silence lapsed between them. "No Pace today then."

"No, he's sitting right there. He's wearing his new invisible shirt and pants I picked up for him. Now play nice and say hello to Dawson, Pacey," she pretended to reprimand. Dawson realised that this was Jen's attempt to allow him, or tell him even, to relax and he did so with a soft murmur of a laugh. "No he's in hospital this afernoon."

"What - why?"

"Check-up, blah-blah," she answered casually, running a hand through her hair.

"Oh," Dawson nodded. "Does he have a lot of, uh, check-ups?"

"Mmm... no, not really. Well, yes and no if that makes sense. There's always someone there to interrupt us be it a consultant or... I'll not bore you for fear of boring myself and I really don't want to bore myself today. It's too warm out to be bored, and if I get bored sitting next to you I may have to kill you. Anyway... hospital check-ups, twice a month or something. He's not even meant to be in today, something happened in physio yesterday so they pushed his appointment forward."

"What do you mean 'something happened'?"

"Gee, I don't know Dawson, I wasn't there," she refuted through clenched teeth. "So you can just drop your accusatory tone right now."

"I wasn't - sorry - okay? I'm sorry but I'm still allowed to be concerned."

"You sound exactly like Joey," Jen groaned dejectedly before swiping a hand over her eyes. "Be concerned. It's not my place to care so I don't know what you want from me. I mean, just because I happen to date the wheelchair user you practically bullied between you last year, I'm not prepared to play go-between. I tried that and I got my fingers burnt... or a clever little analogy that actually fits in there, the point is..."

"What? What's the point Jen?"

"The point is..." she wavered. "Well, I don't exactly know what the point is, but that's not the point! If you want to rebuild friendships then I suggest you do it chronologically. Establish things with Pacey before coming to me because it isn't fair that I have to be that person."

"What person?"

"I like you Dawson, and I like Joey. I love you guys, of course I do, but there's reasons we don't talk any more. Actually, _reason_. Singular. He didn't appreciate me forcing you all on each other last time so I'm not going to chance my luck this time."

"Okay, I do see your point... but it has one flaw, I'm unclear on only one aspect."

"Shoot."

"If there isn't enough between me and Pacey or Joey and Pacey for that matter to salvage even something vaguely resembling a friendship does that mean you and I still remain... neighbours? I mean, is our friendship totally out the window if Pacey's is or-"

"We're two different people."

"I know, I'm Dawson Leery. Pleased to meet you."

"Cute," she smiled sarcastically, watching carefully his now extended hand. He let it fall to his knee on a short sigh, signalling her to continue. "I meant me and I meant Pace," she explained slowly. Dawson's lips curved upwards into the hint of a smile. "And just as we are two perfectly separate human beings and contrary to popular belief not actually joined at the hip, I am perfectly able to choose my own friends and if Pacey were to have a problem with that then he could vent his anger all he liked but a fat lot of good it would do because I'm an independent, very opinionated 21st century girl and, Dawson, Dawson..."

"Yeah?"

"You're not... just a neighbour to me."

"Not quite a friend yet either though, am I?"

"Okay, I'm going to eat my words here," she sighed, bringing her eyes to a frustrated close. "Not my big stuff-Pacey speech because I came off well... in my head... but yes," she paused, if only for dramatic effect, "I accept your friendship."

* * *

"Jack," Jen drawled in a high whine. He turned to her with a fixed glare, she pouted out her bottom lip and his features softened, joining her at the table of the vacated room they managed to hijack. "Pacey and I had a fight."

"You pulled me out of library for this? I got shhh'd for you I hope you know! What did we _just_ discuss? What did we just agree in an email last week? I'm not going to play agony aunt to whatever little melodrama you have going for yourself on a daily basis, this isn't _Jen's Creek._ I'm your best friend, but I refuse from here on in to allow said friendship to eat into the little stereotypical - highly derogatory - Will and Grace set-up we've developed in the past. That includes no taking sides, no gossiping; and concerning the latter that especially applies to giving relationship advice seeing as I can't even get a boyfriend myself let alone counsel you into holding onto one."

"Are you done?"

"Yes. So Miss Lindley what did you fight about? And don't leave out any details, I'm a lonely pathetic loser so I have to live vicariously through you... which is even more pathetic come to think of it."

"Ha," she thumped him, "ha. You know, it so isn't necessary to give your big long spiel about being as straight a gay guy as they come every single time."

"What happened? Is this because you had a talk out with Dawson?"

"Yes. I mean, he totally blew his top. He was so out of order I actually stormed out of the house."

"Really?"

"Well, the bedroom... and I was on my way home anyway, Sheriff Witter had already offered me a lift like half an hour before that. But if it was earlier in the evening, I would have stormed out."

"No offense but that doesn't really sound like Pace. Is this one of these 'Jen's being too sensitive' moments and you've blown everything way out of proportion?"

"Jack, I'm blonde but give me some credit. He was an absolute ass. Dawson got talking to me and pretty much just wanted to be friends again and to be honest it's hard to remember who hates who at the minute and why and... it just seemed, in that instant, really, really childish to hold on to anger from way over a year ago now. I mean, even you and Andie still hung out them through it all. I told Dawson I could think for myself and that Pacey couldn't tell me who I could and could not talk to and if he did he'd know all about it."

"So... let me guess, you went to Pacey, updated him in this weird little saga and he basically told you who you could - and could not - talk to and instead of the front you put up with Dawson about letting Pace have a piece of your mind, you ran away and let it stew?"

"Yes... no! No, weren't you listening? I gave him a piece of my mind alright. I slammed his bedroom door so loud I'm sure even his parents heard _and _when I got home I listened to my angry chick music, loud, so Grams knows something's up too."

"Uh-huh," Jack folded his arms, a smirk growing. "Jen, when's the last time you talked to Pacey?"

"Well, it only happened last night. He can call me. He will call me, won't he?"

"You're such a loser. He will call you, yes, but what did he actually say to you?"

"Well, he went off on one about independence as well... talking about the importance of relying on people, getting used to things and situations and that becoming more independent isn't necessarily a good thing because it's unknown and - do you know he actually said, and I quote, 'no good can come out of moving forward,' I mean, what's that supposed to mean? What, he thinks hating is a safer thing to do; by not giving Dawson and Joey a chance, tying them to a mistake they made months ago is better for everyone involved because moving forward - I'm guessing he means the future - scares him?"

"Maybe..."

"What?"

"Well, what you just said," Jack shrugged a shoulder, "maybe the future just scares him." Jen considered this for a time and collapsed her head into her arms, sprawling out over the top of the desk. "I'm guessing you don't have much sympathy for him then, no? I have to agree with you, not that I'm taking sides, because it's in our binding contract that as homosexual male and heterosexual female you will not explore your life's ambition as a fag-hag because of me however... how-ever," he repeated for finality, "I completely agree, he was a total ass. I mean, to punish two people he essentially grew up with just because it has become some sort of comfort blanket to point the blame at everyone else in order to deflect from himself, well, that's out of order."

Jack pulled an arm around the tops of her shoulders affectionately and squeezed on her upper arm. She smiled, although her face was still veiled into the crook of her elbow. Only the drill of the bell broke them apart, Jen suddenly revitalised with a new burst of annoyance. "Urgh, I have bio now and I haven't even looked at my notes let alone copied my homework!"

"Let's say we cut school then, yeah? I mean, I was in library revising for a test in the next period but you totally threw me off my game," he chuckled. "Ice-cream?"

"Oh, I love you," she murmured softly, dropping her head into her arms again and cuddling up against him.

"Anytime."


	6. Spilled Milk

Shivering in the cold and holding a long breath before mustering enough courage to knock the door of the Witter household, Jen tried the 'mentally preparing oneself' approach, and finally with an equally long, almost therapeutic, release of the breath in which her shoulders dropped with her and, for a split second, she was at ease on the front porch. Until a child heeded her knock and swung on the door handle whilst shouting behind him 'Unc-le Pa-cey!' before abandoning her where she continued to stand alone, even more awkward than before.

Pacey rounded out of the kitchen and came to the door almost immediately. Catching her gaze, he stopped in his tracks and looked down at himself, suddenly self-conscious that he hadn't been talking to his girlfriend in over a week and that the first time she should come to see him, herself dressed in an attire that assured she was trying to make an effort, yet he - playing the uncle role to Charlie _and_ Carrie's three - was grubby from play.

"I uh... well, this is certainly unexpected," Pacey excused. "Come in, I'm just..." he picked up a cloth that was previously balancing on his lap and bowed his head again.

"Had a little accident, had we?" she teased, watching him.

"Well, unless it's a cow's udder I have down there. No, Johnny was crying for a glass of milk... which is all over the kitchen floor as well as myself so if..."

"Yeah I'll help you clear it up, no problem. I'm guessing that's why he was so eager to answer the door?" Jen chuckled, stepping into the luring warmth of the house. A hand shot out behind her to shut out the cry of the wind before she followed Pacey as he reversed a little, turned on the spot and headed back towards the kitchen.

"Everyone's at some policeman's ball thing," he felt the need to explain over his shoulder. "Well, it's really just an annual dinner but anything to get at Deputy Doug. My parents went, Dougie took Carrie..."

"So you're entertaining three tonight? Joy," she raised her eyebrows with pained enthusiam.

"I wish. Erica broke her leg or something and apparently my loving brother-in-law is far too busy sitting on his ass all day to watch his own son so Charlie's staying for the weekend as well," he paused as a distinct thud from above them rang throughout the house. "Yeah, guess whose bedroom they're up in? Charlie's a great kid, don't get me wrong, but I want to strangle him, Jen. Jen, I actually want to kill him. Them. All of them. When you put them all together, him and his cousins, my God..."

"Perhaps tonight wasn't the best night for me to drop by," Jen tilted her head. Pacey caught onto her wrist and stuck out his bottom lip. "Pace, I wanted to talk-talk tonight. You know, about..."

"Oh," he pulled away from her and rubbed the back of his neck, "_that_."

"Yes, that."

"Yeah... I guess we did leave things on bad terms, huh? What if I say I'm sorry, we kiss and make up, I bribe the brats to bed and then we stick on an innocent little DVD and maybe-"

"Pacey! I'm serious here. I can easily just walk out on you again and we won't talk for another week, would you prefer that?"

"God I wish just for once I dated a woman who was such an airhead that she made me look smart," he complained with a shake of the head.

"Pacey just to clue you in, your vain attempts at sticking compliments to me in your typical self-deprecating manner aren't going to wash tonight. You're still very much in the dog house and you have yet to explain where your temper stemmed from because I'm sorry but it just doesn't make enough sense that you were pissed with me at talking to Dawson when-"

"Jen-"

"When," she pinned him with glare, and raised a pointed finger, "and I'd advise you to be careful if planning to interrupt me in the future, _when_ after Andie's party you were perfectly happy chatting away to Joey. Having a little deep and meaningful, well I can have one of those too and with whoever I want. You aren't jealous are you?"

"Of D?" Pacey laughed, then shook his head, "No. I mean, I understand why you would at first be drawn to such was the good little Leery boy with his virginal insecurities: the blonde, blind-sighted momma's boy who picked movies over girls any day of the week; but lets face it, that's not real life. I'm not jealous of Dawson, I mean hey, to be jealous of Dawson would insinuate I don't trust you, right? In this conversation there's no right or wrong answer for me so I'll tell you what, why don't you tell me where your temper's stemmed from? I mean, it can't possibly be me not wanting you to hang out with Dawson because that invariably means me hanging out with Dawson and I'm sorry but-"

"Yes, that's exactly it Pace. You don't have an authority on me, and I don't have an authority on you or anyone else for that matter... well, except Jack," she grinned on an after-thought. "But that's not the point here. You're being such a girl, picking a fight over nothing just because you were in a bad mood because I'm starting to think it had nothing to do with Dawson and Joey at all considering you were able to put a few hours aside for Andie's birthday and get along with them then; and don't tell me that more amicable Pacey was just feeling the influence of alcohol because _he_ had long since sobered up by the end of the night seeing as one of Jack's cousins was kind enough or deluded enough to sit with you in the little boy's room whilst the pair of you puked your guts up."

"I... didn't know you knew that," Pacey winced, biting his lip.

"Pacey what's going on?" she asked seriously, her anger subsiding to give way to a new quiet urge, a fear, a desperation. "Are you doing that guy thing when you act like a total ass to justify - oh my God, are you trying to break up with me? Is that what this is all about? The whole independence crap?"

"What? Jen-"

"Don't sugar-coat anything Pacey," Jen refused. "I'm just going to make this really, really easy for you. Has something changed?"

"Nothing's changed the way I feel about you," he pleaded, pushing himself forwards and clutching at her waist. "Understand that, I - Jen I love you."

"But something's changed?" she shook her head, and held onto his upper arms to try and detach herself from him. His hands held out for her but she took a generous step back towards the door, her own hand touching her mouth and wiping threatening tears. Finally, he submissively dropped his arms to the sides of his wheelchair and glared down at himself, secretly livid and perplexed at how his own progress could emotionally stunt him so.

She nodded and tried to speak again, but choking back hot tears whilst trying to remember to breathe was about the extent of her abilities. The room suddenly tight, Pacey's blue wheelchair suddenly a dominating presence, the shouts of the children suddenly a deafening awakening: all this, and Jen was overcome with a bout of claustrophobia, without looking back she fled.


	7. Opening Minds, Opening Doors

With a strained sigh, Jack bent for the ball and tossed it between his hands before advancing towards Pacey. He slapped the ball into his friend's chest, and waited for Pacey to cup around it and reverse himself a good two metres. Jack, in turn, jogged backwards and waited for Pacey to send the football into the air with hurtling speed. He jumped easily to it, receiving it beautifully and shot his arm back, ready to dispatch the ball again. Noticing Pacey was still gaining momentum down field, he waited a few beats.

"Hurry up, man! You ready?"

Pacey stopped and spun one full circle, arms outstretched and eager. Jack chuckled, shaking his head, and passed to him again. As the ball closed its distance, it made as if it would soar right over Pacey and his wheelchair. Pacey continued to reach out and threw himself backwards, landing on the grass in triumph. Jack winced, a secret guilt washing through him, but he learned to suppress it as he ran to Pacey's aid.

"Are you alright?"

"Now how cool was that catch, huh?" Pacey boasted, the football proudly in his grasp as Jack hoisted him forwards. "See that's the problem with you jock types, Jackers. Shoulder pads, helmets, you may as well wear cotton wool."

"Yeah, yeah," Jack agreed sarcastically, "So um... Pace, have you talked to her yet?"

"Nope. You want to play catch again?" Pacey offered the ball out lamely. Jack slapped it out of his hand with a defiant shake of the head and sent it up field. A world-weary sigh escaped Pacey, forcing his whole shoulders to heave with the effort. "It's just getting boring, Jack. Do we really have to go here again? You phoned me today and said we were just going to throw a ball around. You said nothing about-"

"Talking? Geez, Pace, it's kind of required between two friends."

"About me and Jen," Pacey reiterated, "stop playing games."

"So you don't want to throw the ball about?"

"Well, I did but look at you with your little hissy fit! Go get it. Wait, no, come here," Pacey squinted at him, "you told Jen you would talk to me, didn't you?"

"Uh - no - what," Jack looked about himself, holding his arms out, "Me? No, I - uh - have no idea what you're getting at Pace."

"You told Jen," Pacey nodded to himself, "that you would hang out with me for a couple of hours, a little bit of bonding going on, so you could press me on whatever did or did not go down on Friday."

"Well, can you blame her?" Jack abandoned all pretenses instantly, his arms dropping to his sides again. "You know she's crazy about you, Pace but she's too stubborn to make the first move."

"I called her, I bet she didn't tell you that, huh?"

"She did, yeah. She thought if she talked to you or went to see you again it would only end up in another argument and she didn't trust herself in such a situation. It's a pretty mature thing to stay clear if you've recognised that you weren't exactly thinking rationally. I mean, can you say you've done that?"

"No," Pacey answered truthfully. "Well, not here, no. With Andie I did though. Twice. Once on a boating slip, once... when..." Jack smiled and clamped a hand onto his shoulder. Pacey glanced at the hand and then to Jack, holding his gaze. Jack coughed and threw both hands upwards in surrender, realising the gesture wasn't wholly appreciated. "I'm all for bonding and I'm no homophobe. Pacey Witter's a friend to gays, but it's the wrong moment." Jack stepped backwards, smiling. Pacey dropped his head, the warm teasing lilt no longer attached to his tone, "Jack, I know how you all see me."

"What?"

"I'm like a baby."

"Pace," Jack started on a devastated expel of breath. "Don't say things like that. You-"

"When I first woke up in that hospital bed I couldn't even handle a glass of water without spilling it all down myself. I can't even catch a football without it knocking me over, I can't tie my own shoes. Washing, bathing, toileting, do you know how hard that is? I mean, for months I couldn't even do that on my own, can you imagine how humiliating that is? My family never gave a crap and suddenly they're forced to love me."

"But you're learning now," Jack cleared his throat. "Right? I mean-"

"How would you know? You all pretend to know, but you're also really good at ignoring reality too."

"Is this to do with Jen?"

"Because God forbid I might just be talking about my disability for a minute," Pacey reminded through clenched jaw. "No, it isn't about_ Jen. _I spent the better part of a year and a half now trying to - how did you put it - learn? Learning, growing accustomed to this damn chair, and you know what? That's fine because life can deal you a crap hand sometimes, but I don't understand why she just has to assume that everything's fine now - why you all have to brush aside _my_ reality? Fair enough I'm confident enough in my chair, but why does Dawson and Joey have to be brought back into the equation?"

"Because they never ceased to exist, Pace," Jack tried cautiously. "And because they're sorry."

"They're sorry? Oh, _they're _sorry? Do you think a guy who picks on another kid for being made wheelchair bound is capable of that? I'm sorry, but that's irredeemable. Whether it was because of the chair or because he just wanted to get at me, that was... no! And Jo, I mean, she's - I thought - no! They aren't sorry, they aren't sorry at all. They can't be sorry if they don't know what's wrong with me."

"Pace, I know this is a hell of a hard pill to swallow," Jack bowed his head, "but they are sorry and I know they can't relate to you anymore but if you let them..."

"Why?"

"Well... because. You're a decent person."

"I don't hate them," Pacey struggled with a still-forming thought, "there was a time that the magnitude with which I hated, well, it was scary. I mean, I wouldn't wish this on anyone, but... I was livid. I wanted to hurt Dawson. I just wanted to hurt him. Then they left me alone and it was nice, you know? They think they have regrets?" he laughed morosely, rubbing the buckle and strap restraining him around the middle, "they should try having a practical fear of encountering stairs... bus drivers pretending that you aren't causing them an inconvenience..."

"Is this why you fell out with Jen? Because you've realised you're still mad at Dawson?"

"It goes beyond being pissed at him, Jack," Pacey frowned. "But I don't hate him. It's just..." he paused, repositioning his elbow atop his armrest and allowing his chin to fall onto his fist. "My pop got me this handbook thing for Christmas, I guess he probably thought that was him doing his bit. One of the chapters was called 'Opening minds, opening doors.' I can't even say it with a straight face," he joked.

"Did it help?"

"You tell me. It was all about trying to relate to the reservations of able-bodied friends and family. Sort of, like, I have to find my own medium and explain to them when they're coming off as over-protective instead of supporting me. Dawson's always been patronisizing so I suppose he was just trying to care in his own way, but I don't care that he wanted to care, and I don't really give a stuff that Joey wanted to show she gave a stuff too, and I still don't. Does that make sense without me accidentally telling Jen I don't love her or something?"

Jack laughed hollowly and bobbed his head.

"But back to me and Jen. I guess I started that whole thing because - I'm such a baby," he scorned himself. "I... you can't tell her I told you this, okay?"

"I can't promise that, Pace. I'm sorry," Jack admitted, "but if I think it's in her best interests or whatever-"

"Then I can't tell you. Go get the ball and-"

"Fine!" Jack relented with an impatient groan. "I won't breathe a word."

"I'm going into hospital again. End of the month."

"Why? Is something wrong? God, this doesn't have anything to do with that thing at the start of the month does it? Whatever... happened in physio?"

"Yeah, kind of," Pacey answered simply. "Kate, my... well, you're familiar with Kate, referred me to the specialist afer progress in our physiotherapy. They want to fix the brace back," he paused, watching how Jack's eyes immediately averted to his legs but let the thought pass over him. "They uh... have me scheduled in for another operation on my knee."

"Why? How can you be getting worse if - I don't understand, haven't you been taking steps in - and what good would the brace do if you're in a wheelchair anyway?"

"Jack," Pacey raised an eyebrow, "now you take your time and you think about that."

"What? No!" he drawled as it slowly dawned on him. "They're taking you out of the chair?"

"You know I always maintained that as soon as I wasn't at a physical and obvious disadvantage things could go back to normal again... uh, between me, D and Joey. How naive I was."

"Pacey?" Jack regained speech after a gulped breath. "Pacey? Are they taking you out of the chair? For - for good? For a while? Come on man, don't just say nothing!"

"They said they would see how the operation goes," he shrugged. "So are we done talking now because I only came out under the impression we were going to toss around a ball?" Jack looked behind him and scanned about for the football, once his eyes locked in on it in the near distance, he twisted round again to focus on Pacey. He dropped an encouraging hand onto Pacey's shoulder and gave a firm, supportive squeeze before moving off. "Hey! Hey, McPhee!" Jack pivoted. "It still wasn't the right moment for the hand-touching thing. I think you need to be a father or a girlfriend or something!"

Jack smirked, regained the ball and flung it at him in spite. He laughed mercilessly as Pacey scrambled for the bad throw, failing to prevent it from bouncing from his grip and coming to rest just short of him on the grass. "Hey! Hey, Witter! I think you're right after all. You are a baby if you catch like that!"


	8. You've Made Your Bed

"You left a message with my sister... you wanted to meet me here?"

Jack pushed his head upwards, holding onto the chains of the swing in which he was sinking backwards dejectedly. He moved his feet and swing gently with the wind picking up around them and nodded, before clearing his throat. "Hey Pace. Yeah, I uh... didn't know Gretchen was in town. She said Doug took you swimming or something?"

"We were meant to go but..." Pacey shrugged a shoulder, instantly bored of their forced conversation. "So what did you want to talk about, man?"

"Jen."

"Bye."

"Pacey, no wait!" Jack hauled himself to a standing position, the swing trailing uselessly without him. Pacey's hand went for one wheel as if to turn himself away from the situation, but suddenly Jack had him roughly by the front, pulling on his shirt and bent over so their faces were level. Pacey threw an arm up to disengage himself, but Jack held him taut. "No, Pacey. Uh-uh. The last time we had a proper conversation it was nice. Sure it was - but it was nice. You know? I expected you to have the same conversation with Jen at some point. I mean, you specifically asked me not to say anything. Are you _ever_ planning on telling her?"

"Get the hell off me, jackass!"

"Look, I'm sorry," he detached himself quickly, holding his hands up as way of surrender or apology or both. "I'm sorry Pace." Pacey watched him silently. "I'm... I'm sorry. Just... listen. Hear me out. You and Jen were developing a quaint little pattern, every time one of you would try to apologise for this drift a reason still very much unbeknown to her at this point in time, well, it would just open a whole other can of worms from the way she tells it, placing another week or fortnight or whatever between you both."

"I don't have to answer to anyone. Besides it would... it would only worry her."

"It's worrying you, you mean. Damn in Pacey! What, do you think she's suddenly going to run away jumping for joy because she's only with you out of pity or something? Give her some credit." He waited for justification, sighing when a defense wasn't forthcoming. "You told me ages ago, man. The hospital waiting list was only... what, a month? Four weeks. Well, these four weeks have flown right in. What do you think it'll do for your relationship - your friendship even! - if she hears it from someone else because she will hear it from someone else. News like that, especially around here, it spreads like wildfire."

"Do you know what it's like laying your fears out for someone?"

"No, you're right, I absolutely haven't a clue. I've had this wonderful little life, see. I've never had to admit I was just as afraid as Andie was when - when Tim died, or when our mom was growing ill and our dad left us. When I admitted to a room full of students - to you! - that I was gay, man. To _you_ before my girlfriend."

"Well," Pacey dropped his head.

"All I want is for you to tell her and soon, and Andie too. I know it's hard, of course it's hard but she'll understand. If anything she would be more disgusted in you _not_ telling her. Insulted. When are they taking you in? Have you had word? A specific date or anything?"

"Look, I've asked my family not to make a big deal of it, no one's going to go saying anything to anyone."

"What is it that you're so afraid of anyway?"

Pacey shrugged a shoulder, his cheeks touched with red, "Whole number of things, I guess. Like - like you said. You know, about Jen. Imagine she did take one look at me and say: 'Huh, you're better. Don't need me to nurse you back to health. I'll see you around.'"

"And is that the Jen you know?"

"Suppose not. Worked for Joey though."

"Now you pushed Jo away," Jack's voice raised firmly. "You _know _you pushed her away; and you're stupid Pacey. You're really stupid and I pity you for it. You don't have my sympathy because you're in a wheelchair, I'm not so ignorant as to think you need my pity for that. I just can't believe you don't see the connection."

"What are you getting at?" Pacey asked tiredly.

"That you're doing exactly the same thing to Jen as you did to Joey..."

"Yeah, well Dawson was waiting in the wings back then, wasn't he?"

"And you think he is now - with Jen? Come on man that whole scenario is all up here," he tapped his temple, "it's all in the head. Your head, and you had better start trying to sort out whatever it is straight before you lose her completely. I mean, you've basically told her you don't trust her around Dawson. She let you have your conversation with Joey - yeah that's right, don't look at me like that, she told me. She told me how she saw the two of you cosying up together outside Leery's Fresh Fish the night of Andie's party. Putting your disability aside, Pace, let's just... I don't know, pretend it isn't at all a factor, it's not getting you down, it's..." he waved his arm and gestured away from himself. "It's over there now, it's over there for now, okay?"

"Have you been smoking something or were you caught playing in Grams' special medicine cabinet again?"

"Pacey," he sighed, demanding his friend stay focused, "at least pretend to be serious for a minute, I know that's an alien concept to you, but... if things were different and the option was open to you, who would you rather be with? Joey or Jen?"

"But things aren't different," Pacey seemed almost shocked at the proposition. "That's the point, Jack, and no one seems to realise this. Our beds are made and you know what? I'm kind of tired, I'm happy to lay my head just fine because things aren't different. Dawson showed his true colours-"

"No one mentioned Dawson."

"I don't care," Pacey warned, "he's intrinsically linked to the situation, just like this wheelchair, just like this Goddamn surgery. It's all linked so you can't cut and twist and suppress emotions and events past, we're not arguing Capital Punishment and using contradictory quotes from the Bible here, we're looking at the past year and a half and..." his argument suddenly lost its steam and with a heavy sigh he allowed his words to hang in the air.

"Okay, I understand that. You appreciate Jen, you're glad you're with her. No regrets. Apart from the obvious. That's all I wanted you to prove. It's been long since you guys have admitted that to each other... I mean, from an unbiased point of view-"

"You're entirely biased and rooting for her side."

"Pacey, ifyou _want_ to be with her then why aren't you with her?"

Pacey opened his mouth but stopped himself. Jack found his swing again and watched quietly with a delightful shake of the head and low chuckle as Pacey inhaled powerfully, mumbled a quick goodbye and reversed himself before turning on the spot and following the short tarmac trek towards the playground's exit. Cracking his knuckles and announcing to no one, "Well, I think I got my point across there. Congratulations Jack. You're world's best friend," he kicked back and started to swing effortlessly.


	9. Lay

John and Elaine Witter pulled their eyes from the living room television set as Pacey made a grand entrance through the front door, allowing it to bang shut after himself. Without stopping, he coursed towards his revamped downstairs bedroom, his hands working furiously over the wheelchair's push rim. Turning suddenly on his floorboards, he clicked across the makeshift lock his father had nailed on for him for privacy. Despite fears of no one being able to access him should he have a fall, due to the fact that he now had a swing-away door, his parents eventually wilted after the first embarassing encounter of his mother walking in on him mid-changing.

"Wonder what's eating him?" John commented casually, returning to their spaghetti Western and scooping up a fistful of peanuts in the bowl between man and wife.

"Must be the hormones."

"Ha," John nodded at the suggestion. "Where's the... turn this thing up. Pace! Keep it down in there, would you? Don't make me get up."

Pacey clenched his teeth, trying to regulate his breathing and kicked away his foot rests. Struggling out of the chair completely he took three solid steps towards his closet, massaging his right knee all the while. Taking hold of its door knob, and failing that, using his nightstand for assistance, a bottle of water previously resting where his hand now situated rolled onto the ground with a dull thud. He looked down at the white of his knuckles, his knees a quivering pain beneath his weight, and moved quickly for his bed.

"Pacey! What's with all the dramatics in there? Can you not keep still in that Goddamn thing?" John shouted in again, before turning to his wife with a pained sigh. "See this whole having a teenager on the bottom floor of the house thing? It isn't healthy - there's a reason we used to keep him up in the attic." Elaine glanced at him, making to squeeze his hand but he had opted instead for some more nuts. She retracted quickly and crossed her hands in her lap, stifling a cough. "Doug's a saint keeping up with him for as long as he did."

"John..."

"It's not like he's going to be disabled for long, El. We're done worrying in a couple weeks. You'll see."

"You know what the doctor said. We're not to put all our eggs in one basket. We should be telling PJ the same, this operation, there's a lot to ride on, but - that isn't necessarily a good thing."

John bit down on his lip, grunting, and pretended to focus on their movie again. But when he closed his eyes briefly, it didn't escape her. Neither did the late nights when she'd find herself alone in bed and from the top of the stairs have to hide as he lingered outside Pacey's bedroom, his ear to its door, sometimes allowing himself to enter. Just to make sure their son was still breathing, still sleeping, hadn't fallen, hadn't left. She knew he was hard on the boy, but she, like no other, knew that next to Pacey the Sheriff had taken it harder than anyone.

Pacey sighed, wishing for a break as he tossed a glare at the door separating himself and them. _Them_, he seemed forever distant with. He wanted Mitch but when it came to health related topics, he couldn't allow himself to broach such a thing with the man still consumed with a never-ending guilt. He swallowed, thinking of Jack's advice not one hour previous, and braced himself, reaching out for his phone.

"Hey, it's Pacey... I... this is awkward, huh? I was just wondering, well, I mean if you aren't too busy... we could - well - I want to talk to you. I owe you a conversation, at least, anyway." He paused, the phone hardpressed against his ear in a death-grip. "Oh, now? Uh... I don't know... no, no, okay, okay! Now's... yes... yes, yes now's perfect. I suppose I'll see you then."

The receiver rolled from his grasp upon hearing the dial tone echo with a vague annoyance. Rolling onto his side on the bed and reaching out for his chair for better access, he caught onto the back support and inched it closer before repositioning it lazily, still from his bed, and allowing himself, as his phone, to ease away limply. Strapping himself in and bending to fix his foot rests round, he looked to the ceiling and then to his door. That which acted as a sufficient barrier for him and his guardians and the rest of the world.

"Shake it off, Witter," he berated himself. "Time to put one foot in front of the other."


	10. Watching Time Roll Away

Jen lingered by a post on the dock of the riverfront in Water Street, having noticed her estranged boyfriend by the boardwalk's edge from across the road. She had been coming from Reel Café, a milky coffee in hand, her blonde curls bouncing delicately about her shoulders, just leisurely enjoying the rare warmth of the day. Pacey must have had a similar idea in mind, clad in a dark baseball cap to shield from the early evening sun, khaki shorts and an orange sweater with one bold black stripe across the upper arms and chest - a sweater she recognised he wore the day Dawson had brought his video camera to the beach with them.

"It's been a long time for boyfriend and girlfriend, huh?" she announced wryly upon her arrival. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to _scare _you," she smirked knowingly as he was visibly startled by her presence, his shoulders hunching upwards, and the dramatic spin to her as his hands fell immediately by the sides of his wheelchair outwitted any forthright denial. He faced her sheepishly, before shrugging it off.

"Just so long as you're holding the coffee."

"Yeah, how insensitive of me. I could have had you burn yourself if you were holding something hot to accidentally spill. Lucky you weren't and decided not to be a big girl about things, right Pace?"

Before thinking up a smart retort, he reconsidered, forcing the easy banter at bay, "Jen..."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he repeated dully, his voice thick with confusion. "Why... why... we're probably only going to end on an argument, you know."

"I know," she agreed sadly, averting her eyes with a shrug. "But I figured it was worth it if it means I got to see you." Pacey raised a doubtful eyebrow, mentally challenging her capacity to run with such an obvious lie. Jen was not one to admit to such a pathetically romantic notion let alone entertain one in her head long enough to act on it. "Okay so I was sick of Grams' lectures on the behaviour of the opposite sex and how that Pacey is such a sweet kid and the art of forgiveness before my daily fix of-" she gestured with her right hand the coffee cup, "_Plus_," she sighed, "I spotted you from across the street. Couldn't not say hi."

Pacey smiled genuinely at her before turning his attention towards the lapping current about the bottom reeds, with an excited buzz of a nest of bees hugging somewhere beneath them. Save for a few high-flying birds and small yachts lazily coasting by, the dock itself was relatively and pleasurably quiet. And he didn't particularly want their conversation to disturb that.

"We ended on a really bad note last time, Pace. What's happening between us?"

"You gave Dawson the time of day," he mumbled before he could restrain himself. Sighing, he looked back up at her with sad eyes, bracing himself for her reaction.

"And you don't think he deserves it?" Jen supplied instantly. However with her voice sounding as small as it did in that moment, probably surprising the both of them, it was more a statement of quiet submissiveness than it was a loaded question.

"You're also concerned about Jo," he added quietly, trying to push her to the proverbial edge. And knowing the increasing likelihood of himself being pushed perhaps not so quietly over the literal edge. And knowing that he would deserve it too. "God, they're destroying us."

Jen raised her head at the melodramatic declaration and caught his eye, instantly locating the mischievous glint, "We're letting them."

"Amen Sister Christian," he nodded before catching her gaze again and they shared a smirk before allowing each other a hearty laugh over their situation. Able to relax a little more, Jen shoved his arm playfully whilst he fixed his hat up on his head to flatten down the front of his hair, damp with the warm morning, before securing it about his forehead again. "C'mere," he invited once he was content with himself, with nothing else to offer but a smile and outstretched arms. Succumbing to his request, she fell onto his lap, wrapping an arm around his neck.

"We're going to be okay, you know," Pacey whispered into her ear intimately, allowing him stolen opportunity to inhale the remnants of her shampoo that hung about her gentle curls like their conversations would hang in the air, creating a new void between the couple each time.

"Define 'okay' Pace because from where I'm sitting you and Andie are 'okay.' Dawson and I _were _'okay.' We can't kiss and make up if we don't properly talk. And we _certainly_ don't stand a chance," she noted his roll of the eyes and instant tired scowl as she pulled down from him, "if we don't listen to the other when one's trying to speak and it ends in another fight that places another week or fortnight between us."

"I'm sorry. I was absolutely listening," he assured dutifully, if not a little sarcastically.

"Pacey, there's no need to get huffy," Jen denied quickly, looking now for hard-hitting answers, "I think we're on agreement that this - whatever this is - can't be Dawson. I mean, you trust me, don't you? There's absolutely nothing there," she paused, remembering Grams' talk about the fragility of the male ego and decided to cut her insecure little buddy some slack, after all it wasn't his fault he was a boy. "Do you know why? Because I'm in a relationship with someone I'm totally hot for, there's passion but God Pace I'd like to believe we have romance too. With Dawson... he was _nice _and all, he was sweet, special... in a kind of... family type of way. Don't get me wrong when we dated, he had romance by the bucketful but it was too OTT and rehearsed and stolen from film."

Pacey tucked his lips between his teeth, his brow knitted in thought.

"I never wanted to jump his bones every time he stretched that his shirt rode up and exposed a mere inch of flesh or - or when he'd lean forward in his chair and I'd get this unexpected - very girly - joy at catching even just the rim of his boxers, knowing what colour they were and wondering how nice they'd look on the bedroom floor..." she closed the distance between them, taking his hand in hers and entwining their fingers. Gulping, he responded to the new contact by caressing her thumb with his own.

"Or when he was at physio," Jen continued, raising their fists upwards and kissing the back of his hand, "and I was watching him bust his ass for something that might already be predetermined regardless, and with such an optimistic happy-go-lucky effort his hair would be soaked with perspiration. He'd need assistance with his shower thereafter - _God_, Pacey! And I mean God, I want you. I want to be with you."

"I..." Pacey struggled with the new self-affirming very not shy Jennifer Rose Lindley. One he didn't know if he liked if she had the power to make his breathing become suddenly raspy and eractic. And, for a reason he didn't wish to disclose, he snapped his hat from atop his head and down onto his lap. "I... I'm wearing blue boxers. Plaid. Mmm - my mom picked them out for me."

Jen giggled, nodding to herself, at his nervous candor which was obviously in lieu of proper sentences cementing in his throat. She pulled her hand from his which he gladly wiped along the knee of his shorts and then brought her same palm to his flushed cheek. "Pacey... we can easily assume everything's down to Dawson - and Joey, because your problem with her isn't as apparent which, yes, quite frankly makes me a little insecure. So surely you have _some _answers for this drift between us. I... I know it can't be me, I know what I feel, I know what I dream."

"Um, would you mind terribly if I go about catching that shower before we talk or argue or whatever," Pacey squirmed in his wheelchair. He was met with a knowing smile. "Because, you know, oh it's hot today..."

"I'm going now anyway. I just thought you needed reminded, that's all." She began to move away. "Especially now that _something's _stolen your attention from us."

"Jen, wait!" The urgency clipping his tone halted her every movement. "Look I can understand why you would think I'm suddenly drawn to the lure of Joey Potter with those intense brown eyes of hers and stuff but the truth is... Truth is, I haven't been talking to her since Andie's birthday - and I mean, even then I wasn't in the least bit interested."

"Well why are you so suddenly threatened by my talking to Dawson?" She stopped, bringing her hands to her hips as a fierce anger mounted itself beyond the will to be passive-aggressive. She had no further reservations to let Pacey victim to the brunt of her teenaged pent-up wrath. "It comes down to this again. You don't trust me, do you?"

"No, I mean, no I do trust you. I believe you. I shouldn't have needed to be told that you weren't still with me - I don't know, out of a sense of obligation I suppose. There's no real excuse for it. I don't even know if I doubted us, just that... I didn't go to you sooner."

"My patience is running thinner than a hunger striker on a fast day, Pacey. So I suggest for your own health you quit the rambling and spit out whatever it is has you so choked or I swear it won't be me doing the chasing after a week of solitude and not talking."

"Jen you said we don't listen to each other," Pacey pleaded reasonably. "Well I'm trying to speak. I heard you out."

"That you did," she bowed her head apologetically.

"I tested the water with Jack-"

"You're _gay_?"

"Is _that _your idea of letting me finish?" he frowned in mock annoyance. "No I'm not gay. I told Jack something. And then I told Andie something. Something my family knows. Something that you have every right to know because... it'll have repercussions on our relationship. You could argue it's already had repercussions on our relationship. I lashed out at you, I suppose, because it was just easier that way. I mean, your judgement is the one I care about over any other. And I didn't want to change that just yet."

"Pacey, what is it?" she asked seriously, taking his chin and forcing him to look up at her.

He looked away, back out to the water and she dropped her hand, her lips pursing with concern. Closing her eyes to recollect her thoughts she now knew his behaviour to be at the hands of his physical state. She heard him sigh but couldn't bring her eyes to him.

"Hey guess what?" he nudged her with a false bravado. "They're hauling my ass back into hospital."

"Why, when?" she ventured, supposing his pause to construct a way to tell her allowed her ample time to voice her reaction without interrupting his spiel again.

"I'm having a second operation and if all goes well..."

"But, well, what does it mean?"

Pacey nodded quietly, shrinking in his chair. She eyed him carefully, before biting hard on her bottom lip, concentrating on the subject at hand. "So let me understand this... these past few weeks you had me believe... worry... because... all that time you figured we dated because I pitied you? What, you think now that the doctors seem to be kicking up a fuss on the progress front you think I'm going to suddenly and very happily run to the hills thanking the stars that I don't have a burdensome boyfriend tying me down? That I can finally ditch you with morals in tact?"

He swallowed a still-forming lump in his throat and risked a guilt-ridden glance her way.

"Well, that's just disgusting Pacey," she deadpanned and inhaled exuberantly, "says a lot for my character too. Says a lot for yours. Aw, I can't do it. I can't..." she chuckled, "I mean, this is brilliant Pacey, this is absolutely, wow. I need to sit down. Get up out of that and let me sit down. She snatched the forgotten hat and fixed it onto her own head, her hair a mass of blonde flowing out beneath it, before she jumped into his lap.

"_Watch_ - the coffee!" he warned, comically wincing under her weight and earning a whack upside the head for it. She sipped at her cup curiously before grimacing and letting him hold the sufficiently cold beverage now. "God... I hate hospitals, Jen."

"We'll cross that bridge when we - uh, when _do _we come to it?"

"Next Monday."

"So you didn't tell me because you wanted to, you told me because A. I came to you and B. your time kind of ran out on you anyway?" she shook her head, clicking her tongue in feigned despair although she understood better than anyone and perhaps he himself why someone he was most intimate with was the one he was most uncomfortable with. "I am mad at you for one thing though."

"Mmm?"

"You told Jackers before you told me?"

"Lindley, just shut the hell up."


	11. Your Crying Shoulder

Just one day after Pacey had laid his fears out for Andie and Jen, his own mother - to brush off the usual condolences and well-wishes for her baby boy - let slip to her hairdresser during her fortnightly trim. _Then, _to two ladies in the queue at the deli counter whilst picking up a few cold meats for dinner, and to the guy who filled her car at the gas station, and to Mrs McGovern chairperson for the past pupil's alumni and mother to Pacey's peer Belinda.

The news of Capeside High's one and only wheelchair user entering into hospital again to try to aid his physical limitations spread like the wildfire Jack had feared. Belinda was quick to tell the rest of the cheer leading squad during the short time school had broken up for the weekend, that by Monday morning not only were posters and spirit cookies and empty promises from faceless strangers swamping Pacey in the corridors, but a hefty collection was soon offered up to him too. It was decided the money be spent on a weekend away for two with shopping vouchers, personally delivered to the Witter household quite fittingly by Principal Howard Green.

Pacey was embarrassed if anything but his family were treating him the very same. His father especially and most surprisingly became this suddenly suffocating overprotective looming figure. And by the time the week was out and he was finally summoned to check in at the hospital, John - despite being the worst fan of even a doctor's surgery - was a constant force by his son's bedside. His mother was a praying mess. His sisters quiet. His brother uncomfortably polite with him in a formal almost detached manner. His aunts and uncles on their mandatory one visit made with the cheek pinching routine, the men all promising him pints. His nieces and nephews were eerily well-behaved.

"Look Pop," Pacey sighed heavily after the third day of being confined in his sterile prison. "You really don't have to hang back. The others are down the cafeteria and, hey, I know how much you loathe hospitals. I mean, you didn't spend this much time here the first time I had the accident."

"Pace..." John looked about himself before settling into a chair, a little disheartened by the lack of gratitude. But it was the habit of sitting and standing and pacing about the foot of the bed whilst wringing his hands that Pacey had learned to hate.

"Why do you hate hospitals so much anyway?"

"I don't. So-" he clapped his hands together.

"How did my grandparents die?"

"Damn it, Pacey! Why can't you do as you're told and just drop things, huh? I mean you would think being here would make you, I don't know, serene - _asleep, _all this damn medication. But you're still a pain in the ass, aren't you?"

* * *

Dawson made his way downstairs to the shouts of his mother with an irritable scowl on his face, having been woken from a short nap, a pleasure he very irregularly indulged in. Shaking his fringe out of his eyes by the time he reached the foot of the stairs, he looked about his hallway briefly before flapping his arms and figuring Gale to be in the livingroom. 

He stopped dead, his eyes flickering to his maternal guardian instinctively, as he noticed his dad shaking the hand of Pacey's until their greeting evolved into an awkward hug. With a final pat to Mitch's shoulder, John gave his brief nod to Dawson before exchanging pleasantries with Gale.

"Hello Mr Witter," Dawson said levelly, trying to create the impression of a confident well-together young man.

"Dawson," John nodded again curtly. He allowed himself a long sigh as he lowered himself down onto the sofa and sank back into the cushions, his hand finding the small of his back. Dawson regarded him with a tilt of the head and suddenly wondered what had brought him here as the initial shock subsided. The Sheriff was kneading a well-worn Red Sox cap between his hands, his eyes were subdued into dark sockets, his face red from the whiskey Dawson knew Pacey fervently despised.

His hair, already thinning, was touched with new silver flecks at the sideburns and continuing to creep up. Anyone could tell instantly that years only had so much on him and in truth it was probably Pacey who added the extra strain. Not that Pacey could be blamed, but he and Joey for their once friend to seek solace in a bottle and some of alcohol in the first place. Rumour had it way back when that the teenager had forced himself to down an exact bottle of tequilla, rendering himself certifiably incompetent, before stumbling numbly in front of Mr Leery's range rover.

"Is everything alright? What's going on?" he demanded on an uncertain hitch of breath. Mitch eased himself into an armchair opposite them all and watched his friend look off to the left without answer. Gale materialised from the kitchen, offering tea and coffee but was met with the polite decline 'I'm not staying long, thanks.' "Is Pacey okay?" Dawson complained at the adults again, fixing his question towards his own father this time.

"Mm," Sheriff Witter said gruffly, fixing his cap to his balding head and straightening it into position. He allowed for a rueful laugh and focused a tired stare in Mitch and Gale's direction. "I'm sure you've heard the hospital took my boy in last week, so he's just been waiting until they're ready to undergo any operation or whatever. It's tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Gale repeated, glancing at Dawson and bending with her tray of biscuits and tea pot to the coffee table before perching herself on the armrest of her husband's seat. He pulled her hands into his lap, caressing them over with the pad of his thumb absent-mindedly. "And how is poor Pacey?"

_A knock at the door and a gleaming nurse shuffled in, all teeth and big hair, her white musk instantly choking both father and son. With her was a wheelcart and a decent sized wooden cabinet on top. The Sheriff tossed her a polite smile while Pacey began to twist about restlessly on his pillows, obviously well acquainted with the hag and routine and not much liking it. _

_She reached into her pocket and found a long keyring with several small keys swinging. The first one she tried was successful and pulling open the lid of her medicine box, she began sifting through notes instructing her what and how much was prescribed to her patients on these daily rounds. "This now," she held up a hand, brandishing a lengthened syringe. Pacey grimaced. "And..." setting it aside for a moment she was able to count out three different bottles of pills, alternating them in her hands as she spoke: "These now as well. Two of them. One from this bottle and this is for the morning, okay? Long day ahead of you tomorrow huh... Pacey?" _

_He expelled a huffy sigh as she moved around her cart with her syringe and a separate bottle altogether . Upturning it, she stamped her needle into the soft rubber of its lid and drew upon the clear liquid within. Pacey held out his arm and tightened his fist, allowing her to clean her desired location with a damp strip of cotton wool before stabbing him, waiting three seconds, and then injecting slowly. _

_There was another pause before she ripped the syringe away and moved for her cotton wool to stop the trickle of blood. Pacey clamped his own hand to the 'wound' and glared childishly as she lost interest and returned to administering the rest of his medication. "Head back. Sit up, dear" she ordered busily, holding out three tablets and a glass of water. He stuffed them into his mouth, swallowing a generous swig of water and smiling with forced enthusiasm that made his father chuckle and shake his head. _

_"There now, it's all over," she cooed, her voice thick with teasing. She shared a smirk with John and bowed as she left them in peace then. _

_"See when I get out of this place? I'm gonna stick her with about a million needles, she how she likes it!" _

_"That's enough of that talk."_

John sighed again and removed his cap, fidgeting to find the words. "We had an intimate little discussion today. They're so few and far between it wouldn't be right to divulge." He stopped, inching forwards and licking his lips. "But every once in a while - I don't know - I just get these glimpses of the wonderful future he's going to have, and of the sensitive scared little kid he actually is... despite... he's braver than anyone I know, the way he's handled things. Gotten his life back on track. And that Jen's a fine girl. Fine girl indeed. She makes the boy happy." 

Dawson wondered if this was for his benefit as way of almost threat but then remembered Sheriff Witter was once keen on him, his parents were present and most notably the man was riddled with grief and nostalgia and parenthood that he probably didn't care in the slightest the dynamic of a teenager's social life.

"Is he scared about tomorrow?"

"Petrified," John replied quickly, accompanied with a soft smile as he watched Gale's face crumble. "He was clinging to my arm this afternoon, all tears and running nose. I could do without it."

Dawson knew John was never one for words. Grunts and slights would usually suffice, but this image did not conjure one of an annoyed father trying to prise away a whining nuisance. Instead he saw Pacey alive in John, although neither could ever admit the similarity. Pacey too had a particular way with words, everything was a joke, everything laced in sarcasm. He tried to imagine Pacey crying in his father's arms and a sharp jolt of guilt in his chest surprised him.

Was Pacey crying for fear of the impending surgery or because he was having a heart-to-heart with his old man? Was the physical and emotional pain at constant odds and if so what would win out? If the operation went suitably well, he and Joey would always co-exist to remind Pacey of his once situation. Equally, if the physical pain won out, the boy may learn to forgive them but remain forever and alone in a wheelchair as people excelled around him. Dawson stopped himself, deciding that he was just over-analysing, exaggerating, and assuming a vulnerability Pacey mightn't even feel himself. He'd be fine. He had to be fine. For many's a conscience.

"We all went home. Once they sedated him it was pretty much pointless, you know?"

"Yeah," Mitch tried to understand.

"You couldn't make head nor tail what he was talking about. He had some awareness... he knew _something _was happening to his leg. He said it was a shark that got him out at sea so they had to take it off tomorrow. He also had some story about being stabbed, I don't know..."

_"Does tomorrow have to happen, dad?" Pacey wondered, a slur coming to his words already. _

_"Now Pace, we talked about this," he was reminded firmly. "I understand you're more than a little apprehensive about this. You're allowed to be, but it's for the best." _

_"S'all Doug's fault."_

_"What?" John asked, a laugh of surprise catching in his throat. "Walk me through that. I'm dying to know." _

_Pacey sensed he was being patronised and tried his damnedest to maintain eye contact despite increasingly obscured vision. His eyes took on a glazed look and his head lolled onto his shoulder but he mustered every ounce of energy to stay lucid enough to carry the conversation. "No, not Dougie... what's his name? The one that looks like Doug 'cept he has blonde hair and he's smaller and stockier - maybe a little more camp that Doug."_

_"I don't know Pace," John apologised, trying to remain serious as the drugs dulled his youngest's senses, movements and train of thought._

_"Dawson!"_

_"Dawson?"_

_"Dawson. He... he stabbed me in the leg. And now they want to amputate it but you can just go get that nurse and tell her they can take Dawson's leg instead, 'kay Pop?" _

_"I can't do that," his father explained patiently. "I'm sorry."_

_"Why?" Pacey demanded, affronted. "It's your fault in the first place. You're meant to be some great fisherman," he accused as if this was the most obvious reason. John took a breath and braced himself for a new tale. "You knew I fell overboard and you saw the shark and you didn't even bother your ass pulling me back-"_

_"So there's a shark now too?" _

_"Well duh, man. Geez. You're meant to be the policeman here. Why else would I be getting a shark tooth taken out of my knee tomorrow?" _

_"So it's me and Dawson's fault? Pacey. Pace, bear with me kid. No, no look at me. Up here. I'm over here. You were drunk and got knocked down - well over a year ago now. It's been a long road back since that day. That's all tomorrow is." _

_"But I was only drinking because I knew you'd kill me." _

_"Excuse me?" _

_"You all know this already. It's old news. I was on a boat playing poker and by the way I don't... appreciate people trying to trick me. You're always - always trying to trick me into facing up to things that didn't happen. I know cars don't drive on water. Shark..." _

_"You never said that you were drinking because you were afraid to go home." _

_"I'm starving, what's for dinner?"_

"God love him," Gale laughed morosely, with a shake of the head.

"Well, the kid's sure got some imagination," Mitch pointed out appreciatively. "What time are they taking him in at tomorrow? Are we allowed to visit beforehand?"

"That's ah... that's actually why I'm here," John nodded. "We were all talking about it, thinking it should probably just be family and that, but Dougie said you're just as important in Pacey's life," he added with almost a hint of regret. Mitch reached over to clamp a hand on the man's shoulder. John just chuckled cooly, stretching back and removing his cap again. "Tomorrow determines the rest of Pacey's life," he mumbled knowledgeably, concentrating on nothing but his hat. "And it might go wrong."

"It won't go wrong John," Gale reassured firmly, wanting to feel out for his hand but deciding against it.

"Might do," he shrugged almost casually.

"Am I allowed to be there for him?" Dawson dared inquire after an ominous silence fell about the room.

"Yup," Sheriff Witter cleared his throat. "I mean, anything can happen on that table under the knife, can't it? Might be the last time any of us get to be there for him."


	12. Revisiting Hours

Pacey lay idly; tapping one hand against the other in a simple beat, unenthusiastically awaiting the next short group of visitors to greet him shyly through the door. He already had Bessie, Bodie with toddler Alex and exchanged a rough eleven minutes with them about how his tablets were making him too nauseous to eat or at least keep down food. They talked of the weather, and they talked of the baby. All the while skirting around Pacey's impending surgery.

"Pace?"

Pacey smiled tightly as Mitch's voice interrupted his gentle rap. With his arms falling by his sides, he didn't know what to do with himself now as Dawson's parents and a well-rested Lily entered awkwardly.

"Aw, can I hold her?" he wondered aloud, his eyes shining with a youthful optimism. "I wouldn't drop her. I'll be good with her."

Gale licked her lips and looked lovingly down at the child in her arms, cuddling into the soft of her cardigan. "I wouldn't see why not," she agreed, making to reach over the bed and pass him her daughter. Pacey pushed himself up onto his pillows and accepted her naturally into the crook of his arm. Then, with a hand with an IV attached, he caressed Lily's determined little fist, lulling her before she stirred again.

"It's been a while since we've hung out," he acknowledged, bringing his forehead to the baby's. "Hasn't it little woman?"

Mitch cleared his throat as he hitched the thighs of his jeans up and squatted carefully into one of two vacant plastic chairs. Gale clasped his hand and sat next to him. Although the bad reviews the Witter family had warned her about and the decidedly one-sided conversation Bessie relayed to them was on constant motion in her head, she couldn't help but grin hopefully at watching the would-be surrogate siblings seizing this rare occasion to bond.

"So uh..." Mitch tried, stealing Pacey's attention away from Lily. "How – how are you holding up?"

"I'm grand, seriously. I can't remember what all the fuss is about. I mean, hey, why should it bother me that I get a few weeks off school and no one cares that I'm lying on my ass all day _or _falling behind in studies? That, let's be honest," he flashed a cocky grin, "would be just as non-existent even if I _was_ residing in the halls of Capeside High. I have it sweet."

"Almost believable," Mitch countered, before dropping an octave, "If your dad hadn't called over stating otherwise."

Pacey threw his head back onto his pillows and expelled an exasperated moan, but still with the delicate bundle on the forefront of his mind. Lily stirred from sleep again until her mouth found her own knuckle and she set about sucking around it. Pacey acquiesced Gale in handing the youngster back.

"Your dad seems to think – and Mrs Ryan, who I don't know if you're familiar but is pretty damn tight with one Miss Jennifer Lindley, your girlfriend as it happens – well, they seem to think you've been... less than, to use your words, 'sweet.'"

"Can you believe Jack met a guy? His name's Tobey. His name's Tobey and their first official date is hauling their asses in to see me. I mean, who does that?"

"You've a lot of friends," Gale nodded.

"A lot of enemies too, ha!" he replied without missing a beat. Gale pinned him with a disapproving scowl and he felt himself squirming, as if answering to 'mommy.' "I'm sorry, that was..." he trailed off, scratching at his temple. "So my dad did the rounds, huh? His way of caring, I suppose. I can't blame him, I mean... he's trying to pretend to know best."

"You'd rather we didn't pop by?" Mitch dared venture, suppressing his horror. "We can just - "

"No! No don't do that," Pacey surrendered. "It wasn't my intent on scaring you off, it's just... doesn't matter," he eluded in too obvious a fashion for his usual natural deflections.

"Pacey," Gale prompted simply.

"There's too much riding on tomorrow, Mrs Leery."

"A lot could go right," Mitch keenly interfered. "It isn't going to make or break you. I mean, worst comes to worst, now be prepared that I'm not about to say something especially... profound here. No great revelations so to speak. I'm going to be blunt, but I'm just stating facts you're well acquainted with, kid. Worst comes to worst: you don't walk when you wake up. You go in for your little operation and you don't walk tomorrow. You don't walk the next day. You don't walk the day after that, that's not the point, the point is you have everything to gain here, Pace. There's everything to play for now. If tomorrow seems to be for nothing, so what? At least you can take away from it that you've tried. You worked for this, all year you worked to put yourself here. That's some feat in itself Pace. To better yourself, to will such an opportunity, _that's _success."

"I don't want my life to be a series of hospital visits, Mitch." Pacey shook his head. "Everyone's starting to think about college and where they intend to be in the next three, four, five, ten years and me and Jen? Sometimes I think it'd be easier if we _were_ just headed in opposite paths."

"_College_?" Gale repeated thickly. "Um, not that – not that it's not right for you to worry about normal things, Pacey sweetie, excuse my... my surprise. But, but all that'll sort itself out. You don't need to be worrying about things like that."

"I can see it now. She'll major somewhere some place in sociology or psychology," he seemed to ignore her, his spiel largely scripted in his head. "Or child care and she'll write her thesis on discrimination or wheelchair users' rights or something relating to something that's deferred our relationship these past couple weeks. I mean... me being here, it essentially spelled the start of our relationship – because of – not because of – because of how things just panned out between Jo really and I... I don't want constant hospital visits to spell the end of it."

"And how would that affect it, Pace?" Mitch asked calmly. "If it's about missing school son, you know, I talked to the rest of the faculty, your teachers, not on your behalf you understand – just – they were asking after you. Principal Green assured your parents that the school would be more than happy to sympathise with your, um, situation. Schools are obligated to do things like that. They have to accommodate your grades. College applications – it's really the least of your worries."

"And there I was led to believe I have nothing to worry about tomorrow," Pacey dead-panned. Gale sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as her husband back-tracked nervously until they heard Pacey cracking up with his first genuine laugh in a long time.

"You wreck me," Mitch scolded playfully at Pacey's vibrant devilish smirk. "In all seriousness Pacey, what can we take away from today's conversation?"

"That I wreck you."

"_Pacey_."

"I'm sorry. I'm just... not myself today." He glanced down at himself pensively, his tongue poking out between dry lips. "Are Dawson and Joey out there?"

"They are," Gale answered after watching his demeanour at his own question. "You aren't obliged to see them Pacey, just so you know. But like you said, your dad meant well."

"Right," he nodded, somewhat detached from their conversation now, his voice unusually meek. "I've already had Jack and Tobey, Andie and Mr McPhee, and Bessie and Bodie in the past hour. You wouldn't mind telling them to come back later on? When, when visiting hours start up again? It's just that..."

"Yeah, no problem, Pace." Mitch stood, hunching his shoulders slightly. "We should probably be getting out of your hair too if you're to be bombarded with faces later on tonight, huh? Big day ahead of you tomorrow after all."

"Oh, yeah," he shuddered jokingly at the prospect. "My Uncle Sandy is driving my Grams out from Boston today. Some journey for a seventy-something cheek pincher. You won't envy me later on."

"All right," Mitch chuckled more easily now. He reached out a hand and Pacey sat up, feeling suddenly important as he accepted the adult greeting, before saluting them both anyway. Gale smiled warmly and allowed Lily into her father's willing embrace as she stood too and leant over the bed to hug him quickly and grace his cheek with a motherly kiss. Straightening up and gleaming that he finally seemed in good sorts all things considered, she pinched his cheek before moving off, a last wave parting them.


	13. Outside Looking In

Joey found Dawson downstairs and to the right of the direction of Pacey's ward, hunched over a coffee machine and savagely punching loose coins into the slot. He arched his back at hearing her call him and allowed his name to hang in the air until he selected the weak beverage.

"Any words of wisdom you care to expel before I drink up and head home? You know, seeing as waiting here this entire hour has been a pitiful waste of an evening. Of course he'd suddenly be too tired to see us!"

"Dawson don't feel sorry for yourself. We all came here on short notice. I mean, it's his last night, when Doug stopped by same time Sheriff Witter was in your house, well, the conversation's still fresh in my head. We'd barely sat down to dinner."

"If visiting hours were a little tighter here I could understand why there wouldn't be enough time to see everyone in a day. And I mean, you heard my parents Joey. He's certainly a hell of a lot more lucid than he was with his own folks during the lunch hour today."

"Yeah but he was a _little _confused. I got the feeling he sort of alternates between confusion and – I mean, I don't think anyone copped on until Gale innocently slipped out that it'll be nice having his grandmother come down tonight and Pacey's dad was like 'No she isn't. She lives in Canada. She phoned him wishing well but...' and then what with no living grandparents on the Witter side they sort of realised. Even Mitch said he had the feeling he was humoring him. You would have known that if you didn't decide to feel sorry for yourself the second Mitch told us he was a little tired."

"A little tired, a little confused. Maybe _I'm_ a little unconcerned – a little at the end of my tether. He's never going to be anything more than a little, Joey. That's just the point."

"Look, Grams and Jen couldn't even make tonight."

Dawson took his first sip at his coffee and then pursed his lips, frowning at the acrid taste on his tongue. "Why can't they squeeze in a visit tonight? I'm sure he wouldn't be too tired for them." Joey batted an arm.

"I guess Jen agreed she could see to him anytime. I'm sure it would have been nice for her, for him, to get to talk the night before but she let everyone else go ahead of her. I suppose her and Grams will go pop by the lunch time visiting hours tomorrow, they aren't taking him in till three."

"I very much doubt he'd be up to anyone at all afterwards. The likes of Jack and Andie probably wouldn't even drop by for a few days yet."

"Aw, who knows? I'm sure he's bored stiff," Joey looked about herself, eyeing the pristine corridor. "I know I would be in such a sterile prison."

"Do you think he was in the know about today? About his folks and big brother reaching out for olive branches on his behalf?"

"I doubt that's what this was, Dawson," she sighed, their conversation suitably boring her now as they seemed to talk around weeks and months past. "Perhaps not Mr Witter, but Dougie would know. If Pacey absolutely had no time for me or you or – or us – he wouldn't have invited us down."

"When does anyone listen to Pacey to be fair though?"

"Dawson. Dawson even from the kept distance, I've seen a change in him," she started, her nose scrunching in contemplative unease. "And now whilst I don't know how long he or anyone else knew that any such second operation was on the horizon, I do know that... that he's sacrificed a lot to be here today, tomorrow, sacrificed and learned and grown."

Dawson swallowed his coffee hard, adjusting to the ill-pleasing taste as if it were a compromise of dirty dish water and a sachet of Instant found in a silver bowl on the table of the nearest Greasy Spoon. He raised his eyes to hers as she became more animated, drawing a length of hair behind her ear, half in realisation and half in fantasy of this journey they've all trekked the past year and a half.

"Andie's birthday, Dawson. Before you came out to me I was able to manage a whole conversation out of him. Now it wasn't altogether pleasant but he made the time for me. No Jen, no small-talk, no alcohol even. I feel he's, I don't know, prepared to bridge that gap."

"That gap being what Jo?"

"I know logically there's things keeping the three of us apart and there's things forcing the three of us together into some claustrophobic little triangle than none of us can comprehend much less detach ourselves from. Just as you and I have been looking for some sort of relationship with the guy since all this has happened, I think, I believe, that in that one night when he was too tired to push me away or for whatever reason he chose to talk to me – I think – he's maybe still drawn to us too."

Dawson frowned down at her, recognising that he was more than being encouraged but _challenged _to go talk to his former best friend. If even to have Pacey fall asleep mid-conversation or release an onslaught of verbal abuse the second he walk through the door.

"The question was never about Pace forgiving anyone here. He had a hell of a lot to answer to himself if that were just the case. He ended things the day he asked me what was wrong with him. He closed himself off. Couldn't care less. Couldn't be seen to be caring less because like it or lump it that was his life for him now. Waking up in hospital for the first time, he lost everything and anything in a day."

"I used to believe I'd somehow betrayed him, and that that's why everyone else just seemed to fall away with his friendship. I mean, he even hangs out with Drue from time to time. He's – I wouldn't even belong in their little clique if I tried."

"Talk to him, Dawson. Don't - don't do what I did. Don't give him the option to close off to you. At the very least, one day, he can look back and see that we've always been there. Right on the outside looking in. Waiting."


	14. Scratching the Surface

Dawson rapped his knuckles against the pane of Pacey's window twice before leaning his weight against the door and pushing his way in. The same unshaven Sheriff Witter with wife Elaine sat next to their son, and as John cleared his throat and dropped his head, wiping the corners of his mouth with a hand, Elaine turned to offer Dawson a kind smile.

They glanced back at Pacey who stared them down with a pointed look as his former companion – almost with an air of clumsiness – made himself known in the doorway. Then, remembering his father's good intentions in rallying the masses and remembering Gretchen and Doug's firm pleading, he rolled his eyes and nodded stoically.

"We'll be back in a little while then," Elaine understood gleefully. "Now you boys behave. Pacey, I've to get the dinner on anyway so..."

"It's okay Ma. I'll see you in the morning I guess."

"Now hold on," John assured, "if you'd prefer we stay – you know – that isn't at all a problem."

Pacey shook his head and settled into his pillows, "Really Pop, Dawson and I are perfectly able to look after ourselves."

"Well, look, even if later on tonight you're feeling, I don't know, just try to get some sleep before tomorrow, you hear? And try this here sandwich Carrie picked you up," Elaine pointed busily to the unopened triangle cut sitting atop the cabinet. "Because the doctor said you have to starve yourself tomorrow. This'll be the last chance you get for a bite to eat."

"Ma, I'm fine. Really."

"Alright, you heard him, you're embarrassing the boy, now come on you." John took the woman by the shoulders and made to guide her out, dropping his hands however, so she could slant and kiss Pacey's hair, then flatten it down with her hand. He inhaled, folding his arms and nodded resolutely. Pacey smirked affably and nodded back, pushing his bottom lip out and looking about himself as the couple ushered each other out.

"So..."

"So D," Pacey hurried up. "You clearly had a conversation in mind. What do you want to talk about?" Dawson was momentarily stunted by the unusual candor and shuffled toward a seat. "You um... you should probably excuse my mother. She sort of – basks in the fact that she's got a disabled son."

"Pace, I'm sure that's not true."

"She feels sorry for me. Loves fussing, doting, loves... feeling needed. Suppose they're all like that if you scratch hard enough though: the Florence Nightingale effect."

Although he was venting an insecurity and something he's obviously given some great deal of thought to, his candidly casual flare was more than a little unnerving to Dawson. Like finding himself stuck in a discussion about sex with crude company all the while harbouring deep-seeded virginal fears. Pacey scratched the side of his head, noting Dawson's reticence.

"I'm sorry, am I making you uncomfortable? Protect your modesty and the modesty of others and all that. You're absolutely right, family issues are the very least we should be talking about here. We've probably only got ten minutes before that does you until the next bout of guilt six months down the line forces you on me again."

"Pacey, I know you're hurting right now."

"No, tomorrow. I'll be be hurting tomorrow," he corrected emphatically.

"I know you're angry too."

"I'm tired, damn it, man. I thought you were told this already? You don't know me at all so stop telling me how I ought to act or feel."

"Pacey," Dawson tried on a sigh as he sensed the boy's wit abandon him and the conversation take its usual bitter turn. "Like it or not I'm here right now. Just as I've always been. Just as I always will be."

"Don't I know it," Pacey snapped irritably.

"Well I want you to know it."

"Is this one of those moments," Pacey cleared his throat, with a mock frown, "that you know, you're going to come out and profess your undying love for me? Cos I gotta tell you man-"

"Would that shut you up?"

"Huh?"

"If I told you I loved you? If I told you I always loved you?"

"And then you reach across my bed, push the hair out of my eyes and aw – Dawson – please! Stop tormenting me here. I – I want you! I want you now!" he pretended to gush in an emasculate hitch of his voice before glaring in distaste. "Give me a break..."

"Pacey I don't – I don't know what you want from me."

"Okay, seriously?"

"Seriously."

"I want... maple syrup, bacon and pancakes."

"Despite your typical inappropriately placed humour I get the impression that you're distracted, Pace."

"Well, you've already taken a seat Counsellor Leery," Pacey retorted, adopting a deep gruff voice. "So..." his steam suddenly left him as a typically 90s song by OMC came over the radio just behind him on the window sill. "I'm not going to have much of a summer this year, man."

"Yeah, we know," Dawson nodded, slumping down but smiling for the 'in.' "But you'll be back on your feet after long. You'll see."

"I hope that pun was unintended for your sake," Pacey squinted with feigned suspicion. Dawson smiled sadly, almost apologetically. "How did me and you get here, huh?"

"I..." Dawson wheezed a silent laugh, struggling to get around his sentence. Bringing both hands to the back of his head, joined at his fingers, he laughed again. "I do know and that – right there – is the problem. If our friendship just got lost along the way, if we'd drifted, we would have opportunity to go look for it again. Get things back. But it isn't that simple, huh? I think for us at least... it started with me kissing Joey in your room."

"Mm, no."

"No?"

"No," Pacey objected again. He felt for the back of his neck, working out a severe knot. "God, I've been laid up here too long. I had... my whole life I've lived in your shadow. Even though arguably I'd be the more vocal one well I mean – oh! – can you talk. I know that much. But I was the – the rash one – the hyper one – the reckless one."

"Never knew what you were going to come off with next," Dawson teased. "But you... you kept things interesting."

"Or who I was going to get off with next," Pacey grinned boyishly. Dawson inhaled sharply, fixing him with an odd look. "But you halted that, Dawson."

"I'm sorry?"

"I had... I had this new exciting thing with Joey. Before you knew about us, before, before any of that. It was just me and it was her. Jen knew. Jen encouraged us. Now me and Jo are on separate ends of the spectrum, completely heading in the opposite direction of each other because everytime we face things head on we collide. It's no secret I was pushed into the direction of Jen, and her me, and I wouldn't dare regret it, but Joey... when I look at where she's heading. It's always been towards you."

"What are you trying to say Pacey?" Dawson asked somewhat brusquely. Pacey shrugged a shoulder carelessly and tossed him a glance.

"How come you allow yourself to come over all... needy, honest, giving _if _when it comes down to it, it isn't me keeping us apart. It's you planting Joey right in the middle of things."

"I really don't think..."

"Save it Dawson, you've always laid your stake on her, you claimed her back and now that it didn't work out between the two of you for the umpteenth time you remember me again? Well, I'm sorry but it doesn't work that way. _You _were the one who kicked our so called precious friendship to the curb the second you heard I was dating Jo. You lay all the blame on me, how I betrayed you, how I stole her, took advantage, corrupted her. I was your best friend too, man, and you couldn't even see past that."

"Pacey that was a hell of a long time ago."

"Tell me, if I didn't go get myself knocked down. If I hadn't have screwed up as usual. If me and Jo were together today, could you forgive me?"

"I..."

"Could you forgive me?"

"In time, yes" Dawson faltered.

Pacey rolled his eyes, nodding, "Yeah sure and Andie's a junkie, Jack's going to make an honest man out of my brother Doug and news just in – what's that? – yes, pigs are soaring, Dawson. High."

"If you weren't in a wheelchair and didn't shove all of this undeserved guilt onto me and Joey's shoulders and I was still in the position to forgive then yes, I do believe in time things would be right again."

"There we go," Pacey clapped, sarcastically commending him. "Big man Leery takes one for the team because the poor decrepit little wheelchair-buddy needs someone to blame."

"_Stop_ feeling sorry for yourself Pacey!"

"Then stop being such an unbelievable ass!"

"Pacey-"

"No, you know what? You want to know what I think, _Dawson_?" Pacey found himself spitting in contempt. Dawson snapped round to the door, hoping a nurse off the end of the ward wouldn't hear their raised voices and blame him for getting the patient all worked up. "I think the truth is you'd enjoy pinning me to something I was supposedly guilty of committing."

"Because you aren't capable of that!" Dawson laughed, turning back to him. "Nearly two years Pacey! Nearly two Goddamn years! We're coming eighteen."

"You did a hell of a lot more than me crossing the line and going out with the ex. That's up there with dating a friend's sibling. It's dangerous territory but come on! You didn't allow me the opportunity even to explore what I felt for Joey and what she may have felt for me, and for that Dawson, for stealing a potentially beautiful part of my life away from me, _yes _I resent you greatly. You bullied me, you laughed at the idea of a wheelchair and belt buckle reigning me in, laughed at the idea of me standing up for myself, kicking your ass from one end of the creek to the other. You tried to make me seem unreasonable to our friends – dragging my own girlfriend into our differences. You – it's always you!"

"Fair enough I shouldn't have been hard on you what with... the state you found yourself in."

"I'm sorry, the state I'm in? Please D, please divulge."

"Pacey," Dawson sighed impatiently, feeling his fists tighten in the pockets of his coat. "If I were you and you me, I would have forgiven you long ago. For the sake of our friends, like you said, they don't deserve to be dragged into everything. For the sake of our friends and for the sake of Joey."

"Can I venture a guess how I think things would be if I were a walking – and I will be a walking –" he broke off, as if doubting himself. Throwing his head back onto his pillows, he buried his face in his hands and groaned outwardly. "You would forgive me, of course you would but you'd take your time in doing it; and not before you pulled Joey back to the good side with you. Even then as we try to build up a friendship again, you'd always hold it over me. You'd always lord over this idea that you're superior because once upon a time I, one day, screwed up."

He sniffed, wiping at dry, tired eyes.

"I'd walk on eggshells, always running behind you like the little lapdog you envisioned and moulded me into, always seeking your praise because my family don't have anything to dote on. If I weren't the monumental screw-up and only had you guys to help maintain my sanity, my God, you'd enjoy knowing your words and your actions and your manipulation of Joey could make or break the pair of us. You get off on playing puppet master. Or director. Whichever little fantasy you want to run with. Be my guest because Dawson? Whatever you see for us?" he tapped at his temple, "It ain't going to happen. It's all in your head. 'Pace and D' died a long, long time ago now. You said so yourself."


	15. Silent Reverie

"Jen," Doug breathed with relief, quickening his pace to her before she readied herself to pass through Pacey's door. He swiped a hand over his face and turned his head to look down the empty corridor. Jen involuntarily hitched her breath, her eyes glassy and her head thumping severely and not merely a prelude to flu or cold either. They allowed themselves to drop down into two chairs conveniently set against the wall in the expansive hospital hallway, and she concentrated on her joined hands in her lap, her right leg bouncing vigorously.

"I would have got here sooner, it's just I was told last night..."

"Don't even excuse yourself Jen. I know you have commitments, school. You didn't even need to make your way down here, for all of the half a minute they allow you to see him. And it's not like he's awake anyway! Pointless, pointless rules."

"The nurses have been more than lenient with the numbers tripping in and out of here Dougie, what did you expect today of all days?"

"I know, I know," he smiled at her reasonably. "I'm sorry. I'm just – I'm just – I'm – I'm just in such an angry place at the minute, you know? It's stupid really. I just would have liked to have talked to him before and I mean you put yourself on the back burner for the sake of everyone else last night. We really thought you would have been allowed in to see him before three this afternoon. Apparently not."

"How did it go?"

"Well," he wiped at his brow and then yawned into a fist. "My parents were with him there but then they were pulled away for some consultation thing with the hospital's doctor and Pace's uh... physiotherapist. Not – not Kate. Not his by-weekly one."

"Sucks to be them."

"It went well apparently. He's understandably exhausted, his body I mean, after – after the operation. Don't think he's come to yet. Me, Gretchen, Carrie and Erica were with him in respective pairs but... you know your lazy ass of a boyfriend, he wasn't for waking up."

Jen laughed through warm tears, bringing the back of her hand to her nose, "That's good. That's – it's good."

"I was thinking, you know, maybe I ought to get the people that treated him a little something."

"Doug, it's their job. You don't need to buy your gratitude. Just be good to your brother every once in a while. He looks up to you, you know."

"I very much doubt that," Doug laughed hollowly. "I mean, even just a card or a box of chocolates or something. I know it's their job but you hear things, don't you? Hospital staff slacking on the job, not tending to dressings properly, washing their hands, I can't afford to slack on my job. I slack on my job, it's the town that reaps the consequences. I don't pull someone over for speeding or give 'em fair warning, I see them wrapped round a tree four miles down the road. I can't afford to slack on my job Jen and Pacey's life was in their hands and I owe them that. Giving my little brother his life back, I owe them a hell of a lot more than chocolates."

"You don't owe it to Pacey though. Just so you know. The day he got himself all liquored up, it's not like _you _failed him."

"He's just a kid. He shouldn't have had to worry about today at all. Neither of you."

"Hey, he'll get better. It's all uphill from here now. The worst of it's over. Just – just a hell of a lot of rest and I'm sure Pacey's just heartbroken at that," she drawled sarcastically. "He'll be in his element now, everyone running around after him." She felt out for his hand and pulled it over onto her lap. "He'll get by this. He always does."

"You should go pop your head in," Doug nodded, shifting the subject from focusing on himself slightly. "He's not half the brother I had this time two years ago. Well, give or take a few months. Hell, he's not half the Pacey he was before this second operation. I hope – no, I pray God – this is the last of it because I gotta tell you, each time he's put through this, he comes out looking like it's the last of _him_."

"He's doing better. You have to remember that. That was the whole point of this."

"He won't be able to do things for himself for the next few weeks, Jen. It's just... I know _logically _that he's better. That he's on the up now. That this is just the natural adjustment period. But it just brings back so much. The accident, the – I mean, he can't get up out of bed for leg cramps. What's he going to do when he needs to use the bathroom? Before, when he was with me, the flat was well kitted out but my parents won't know what to do with themselves now that he's back home. If they knew how to deal with him he wouldn't have needed a catheter fixed up him now. I tell you Jen, no man wants to wake up to that! He's not worth a day's work to anyone."

Jen cringed at Pacey's discomfort and Doug's blunt language.

"Doug, despite whatever embarrassment may lay ahead of your brother, just think in a few weeks the rehabilitation programme will be through and he'll be out of here. He'll be stuck in his room, sure, but then gradually he'll have to start back to physio and he'll be walking Doug! Can you imagine that? He'll be walking."

"Yeah, but..."

"No. No buts. He doesn't need people around him looking at him without positivity. Pacey was told, Pacey was counselled, he wasn't allowed to think unrealistically. He shouldn't assume, he shouldn't push, he shouldn't overdo it. He'd be wheelchair-bound until adulthood. He didn't let odds beat him down then, so you shouldn't let the marginal cynicism of things not working out get _you_ down. You'll just have to suppress it because now he can look forward to things. You know what they say, you have to get worse to get better. Now he stands an even greater chance than he did first time round, right?"

"Right," Doug agreed submissively, not wanting to appear to be ruining his family's new and dauntingly unfamiliar success. He snapped his hand from her and started abruptly down the corridor he hadn't been able to steal his eyes away from. She chuckled sadly and then went to the new private room Pacey had been moved to before she lost her nerve.

Upon entering she was hit with an uncomfortable warmth, but quashed the automatic desire to open a window because Pacey was obviously left susceptible to cold weather. Pacey. She cocked her head to him and a gradual, genuine smile tugged at her lips as she took up her place beside him, screeching her chair as close as possible.

Despite Doug's evaluation, she thought him quite beautiful. Yes, his lips were as if they were smacked with ruby red lipstick because his face was so hideously pale that the thin line that was his mouth was over-emphasized. Yes, the curly brown hair she loved to run her hands through was shaved off into a very fine cut he had never worn before nor was she sure she liked. Yes, his eyes were sunken and his lids grey and drained-looking. And yes, his bed clothes drenched him, not that he ever had an inch of fat on him beforehand, but as she took a hand to his upper arm and squeezed curiously she knew him to be skinnier with muscle wasting away. But to her, he was still beautiful.

"I don't care what they say, Pace. Mm, you're not sick to me. I even did what Grams said, you know. Gave God a chance. Said a prayer and look what happened? He seemed to jump for joy that the girl living in eternal sin finally seemed to stop straying. He made you well for me, He whoever He is, if He is a He at all."

She spoke to him as if lulling a child to sleep, and placed a hand on his cheek briefly before moving it over his chest. Sliding the blankets down to his middle torso, she snapped at the waistband of his pants and glanced curiously at the catheter Doug assured was attached there, wincing sympathetically as she noticed the instrument to be causing an irritable redness. Then, unbuttoning the pyjama top someone had dressed him in, she felt for a heartbeat just above the nipple.

"You see, I did my best, Pace. I – I sat here willing you here. It's up to you now. But see maybe Robert Frost was right all along, that if there is anyone up there listening to us, if there is some big master plan, it's one hell of an evil design. I thought wanting the operation to go swell would be enough. Your brother seems to think otherwise. Wake up and prove to me it's just because he's unaccustomed to things going right. Hurry up and wake up and be on my side, Pacey."

Bringing her forehead to the edge of the bed, she laced her fingers in his and pulled his arm carefully around her neck in an unknown hug on his part. Kissing the back of his hand now in her own, her resolve for Doug's benefit broke and to it she wept optimistically.

Pacey listened to her, but didn't dare open his eyes to the pain he knew they shared. Felt her hand squeeze his, but his palm was suddenly sympathetic to his lower paralysis. Internalised her words, but couldn't swallow much less console her with the croak of his voice he knew would be heavy with sleep.


End file.
